Breaking through the fog, a city, a glowing phantom of neon lights outlining the towering monoliths whose tops remained elusive above the fog, hidden in the clouds. Across the bay from the decadent jungle of lights stood an abandoned shrine standing silently in an equally abandoned park. A light rain evolved to a torrent of water which pooled at the moss covered foundation and soaked the rotting wood and tatami floor. Kneeling before the bronze statue of a forgotten local deity, a silent figure meditating without even the smallest movement. The figure slowly turned, dragging his wet yukata across the floor to look back towards the entrance of the sacred grounds. Standing under the eternal torii gate was a dark cloaked figure. It slowly approached the shrine leaving deep cavities in the mud and light scrapes in the ruined stone path. As the shadow reached the front steps of the shrine, it stopped to watch the worshiper inside who had turned back to face the shrine. The worshipper lifted his hands and placed them together in prayer while he watched the stranger in the reflection of the aged statue. The eyes of the shadow cast a red glare through the rain and bathed the entrance of the derelict shrine in an eerie sea of artificial light. Cautiously, the shadow took one uneasy step onto the first decaying step. Waiting as if the shrine itself would rebuke it, and seeing no reaction, fully stepped into the dilapidated building. The shadow started to investigate the trash and garbage that littered the floor, moving pieces around with a sheathed katana. The walls remained almost hidden under the mountain of graffiti and faded words carved into the wood. A short synthetic chuckle escaped from the stranger. He turned to look at the worshiper, seeing his long black hair nearly cover his face in its unkempt state.

“What a sorry state” declared the shadow with the quake of his mechanical voice.

“And yet there is life,” replied the worshipper. He remained in prayer, eyes closed and head bent in reverence.

“That is yet to be seen” the stranger began to circle the statue. “You know why I am here”

The worshipper lowered his hands to rest them on his legs as he remained kneeled. Amidst the rain he could smell the growing scent of oil and steel.

“My employer is dissatisfied with my resignation” he answered as he looked to the circling beast.

“Those who would face your blade would come to call you ‘The Demon of Steel’, ironic” the shadow stopped behind the statue.

“Ironic, that the company sent a real demon to kill the imposter” he moved to rest his hand on his katana, sheathed at his waist. “What does it take to buy the services of a demon?” he asked.

“For the enslavement of your soul by the Arashi Corporation, I am to receive one hundred souls of those in terrible debt to the company” The assassin spoke plainly as if discussing a daily business transaction.

“What a waste. One hundred lives for the death of one man”

“One man of infamy. Your worth both to the company and to us in the shadows easily surpasses that of one hundred average men” The demon took a quick step to the side, giving him eye contact with his target. “First you sold your soul to the company, a failure as an individual. Next you forsake your wife for the sake of your master, failure as a husband. You let the company take your daughter, a failure as a father. The pain and misery that surrounds you makes your soul so very desirable” The demon rested his hand on his katana to mirror his target.

The man finally stood, slowly dropping coins into the offering box.

“You make your point clear fiend. Despite my failures I will not allow the company to exist as long as I am alive. I will eradicate any who dare hoist the banner of Arashi” The instant the last coin bounced against the bottom of the offering box, the statue released a green pulse of light and energy. The two demons were ejected from the shrine by an invisible wave, casting them into the rain. The human was launched further than the machine who had dug his titanium feet into the mud to stop himself. Mud and water exploded forth as the machine came to a halt. The demon’s cloak had been ripped from him revealing the intricate engineering of his robotic form. Rain poured down the fanged metallic skull as he watched his prey with caution. In perfect unison, the two drew their blades. An ignition of blood red plasma engulfed the hunter’s blade. The human took up his stance bathed in the light of the blue-grey plasma of his own sword.

“Like all humans, you’re a slave to your desires, your desire to fight controls you, and that intrigues me”

“And you? Are you not a slave yourself?” returned the human.

“We who live beyond, we are free. I choose to take your soul only because I want to. I have no need to fight, I have the choice to leave this behind me. However, I want this, regardless of the eternity that stands before me, I choose this moment. I choose this fight.” The demon’s declaration of war seemed to freeze the two warriors. They stood motionless, waiting for the right moment to strike. Rain drops evaporated as they landed on their blades. Suddenly, as if the two shared one mind, they both lunged forward at incredible speed. Their blades clashed in a blur of flesh and metal. Despite the demon’s mechanical body the human kept pace with its movements. The whirlwind of superheated blades sliced through the storm as the two adeptly avoided each other's attacks. Ducking the machine's lightning fast swipe, and seeing his opening, sliced through the demon’s stomach. Blood and oil gushed forth as the machine fell to his knees.

“It's only one body,” the demon said, his voice cracking and distorting as his robotic body began to shut down. “I hunt you still slave. I do not tire, eventually, I will take you, Katsu” The demon spoke his last as the machine lay still, eyes dimmed to darkness. The victor sheathed his sword and gave a short bow to his enemy. Katsu gave another bow to the shrine that had sheltered him from the restless storm. He departed from the park, setting his sights on the fortress of towering monoliths that loomed over the bay.

It wouldn't take long for them to break through the bridge bulkhead. Ten of us stood with full tactical awareness of the situation, and how bleak the odds were. Two of our men stood braced onto the structural pillars just past the blast door, short range splicers trained forward. The rest of us took up firing positions on the higher platform of the bridges command and control station, using various consoles and pillars as cover. Captain elected to take the doomed position manning the con. We did not have enough weapons to go around as the firefight had already used most of out munitions.

The laser cutters worked relentlessly at the blast door. The heat bearing inside the room like the winds of a desert world. I could feel the droplets of sweat hanging on my brow, my own pulse shaking one free every other moment. The cutters worked from the far sides of the door along its seem in the middle where they connected and sealed the room. We had maybe a minute before they filled the room.

KayLo was to my left, I could hear her whimpers as her wet face pressed against her rifle. She was a scientist, not a soldier. Most of these people weren't soldiers, this wasn't even our war. Captain cleared his throat and tried his best to hide the panic in his voice, "The asteroid belt is only a few thousand meters from our current position. When those doors open I will attempt a high-G maneuver, that should catch them off balance and buy us some time." He turned to face his young crew, "Do not let them onto this bridge. No matter the cost." We clipped our EVA harnesses into place.

The cutting stopped. The silence was unbearable. With a clunk the doors parted horizontally, the exhaust smoke from the cutters pouring into the room. Following the smoke, three round objects slid into the room. At that moment, Captain smashed the accelerator forward and violently twisted the yolk. We barely held on, the clips keeping us from smashing into the walls and ceiling. I gave the order, "Fire!" The splicers got off only a single round when the round objects detonated, vaporizing the two men instantly. The hail of laser fire exited the room in a chaotic array.

Captain jerked the yolk again, taking us deeper into the asteroid belt. The Zelo mother-ship has taken pursuit. However, it was too large to navigate through the field, leaving the troops onboard stranded until they could plot an intercept course. The odds were still not good, a platoon of Zelo troops were still outside the besieged bridge. That's when I noticed it. They haven't returned fire.

I gave the order to hold fire. The seven of us still in firing positions tightened up on Captain. He was the only one who could pilot the ship, the other helm officers were killed when the troops first boarded. Our ammo was now critically low, only a handful of charge-packs left between us. It was silent again.

"Milo," KayLo began to whisper to me, "did we get them?"

"No." I knew they just wanted to wait us out, let our ammo deplete.

"What do we do!" KayLo said frantically.

"We hold the fucking bridge, or we die."

I was never one to reassure. Especially now, there was no point in lying. We all knew our fate. Captain had stayed quiet during this exchange, his focus on navigation. While we would likely be slaughtered here, being killed via a head on collision with an asteroid somehow seemed worse. "Everyone," I started, "stack up on the exit. Kay, stay here with Cap and cover us. When we enter the hallway reseal the door with the emergency bypass."

"Not an option." Captain barked, shattering the eerie quiet, "We will get out of this, I just need to get satellite contact with Solara's moon base. They can send out a patrol squadron to scare off the mother-ship."

"That doesn't take care of the more immediate issue of the fucking army on board, sir."

"We hold the bridge until they can scramble a boarding team."

"Sir, they are trying to dry us out we wont survive another high-G--"

We flew level too long. We should have kept up the G's. Some of the troops had EVA'd out, magnetized to the hull of out ship. They were just coming into view on the corners of the glass in front of Captain. They were placing charges.

"Contact!" screamed Vitro. The blast doors were resealing themselves.

"Admin override, now!"

"We're locked out!" Beemo yelled as he banged his fist onto the nearby console.

The soldiers disappeared from the glass, retreating back to the airlock most likely. We were trapped. We were going to die. I am going to die. Captain sunk in at the helm, the color was completely gone from his face. With an inhuman speed he ripped the pistol from KayLo's hands, placing it to his temple. I was too far away.

We were all standing there. His corpse bent awkwardly against the control console. His splattered remains covering KayLo and myself. I remember when I met the man some ten years ago. He didn't deserve this, not here, not for this war. They never wanted our cargo, we were a science vessel for fucks sake. We were a fucking message to these animals. A smoke signal to ignite a blaze. We were just the cost of doing business.

Everyone else took Captain's way out. I don't blame them. KayLo was inconsolable, death by vacuum was too cruel for her. So I held her as she cried into my armor. I used by utility blade, severing her spinal cord at the base of her skull. She didn't feel a thing. I didn't have the courage to follow the others. I took my seat at the helm and closed my eyes...

There was static for a moment. Then a rumble. The charges still hadn't detonated yet.

"This is the Solara Patrol Squadron, come in KATO-1. We have eliminated the Zelo troops in your hull. The Zelo destroyer has been fended off by the Planetary Navy. Sit tight, we're boarding now."

He always wondered what the purpose of everything was. Drifting through his days as a quiet observer. The life of a Seeker was one of solitude and infinite exploration for the Celestial Council. Eman wondered about each and every sector of the galaxy as the council required. He did his job, lazily seeking worlds that may have sentient life. For what purpose he did not yet know. His father, Elume, was also a Seeker, as was his father before him. Eman used to find joy in this exploration. Now, he simply does his duty until the council retires him.

This world was cataloged by the name of Smaragdus. Eman thought this was an odd name but his job was to seek, not to name. He landed his small starship in a clearing of lush green vegetation. Tall sturdy plants lined the clearing and thrashed in the ship's wake as it landed. His heavy boots crushed the plants as he heaved his way into the jungle, leaving his small encampment to survey the nearby point of interest the ship's computer identified while on entry to the planet's surface. One stood out as anomalous, that would be the first stop.

* * *

Eman traversed the thick jungle for hours, only stopping for water and to collect the occasional sample. He did not need to collect samples but most Seeker’s kept a hobby to keep their minds sharp. The Set of binary suns were beginning to set, the sky becoming a mix of purple and green. Eman emerged from the jungle, entering a short clearing. The edge of a cliff just a few meters past where he now stood. In the distance, deep in a valley between two plain mountains, a massive crater scared the surface. No large pieces of vegetation grew in the crater but Eman could tell it was not a new addition to the planet. Grasses and small ponds littered the inside of the crater. At the center of it all, Eman located the anomaly.

The structure was tall and slim. It stood at least a hundred meters tall, perfectly vertical. The structure was rectangular in shape and was as gray as silica dust. No markers were visible anywhere on its surface. It took Eman another three hours to maneuver down the cliff and into the crater valley. Night had finally taken hold of the planet. The stars cast just enough light to see the surrounding area, completely devoid of any creatures. The night stood silent. Eman would have to make camp next to the monolith. He did not have a flat enough clearing to call the ship to his location and land. His survival pack provided him a small lantern, his rations, and his inflatable sleep pod. Emans mother would often take him camping, pointing out constellations by the fire.

There, you see that star, just next to Sigma Sagittarii? Your father is there now. His mother would often point out star systems where Eman’s father was working, both of them waving at the faint specs of light. He thought of those nights often now. Especially on nights like these, where the sky was perfectly clear. Those memories were sour to him now. Not after what she did. Eman sighed, turning off his lamp, he pressed his eyes and pushed those memories back where they belonged.

* * *

The air was thick with dew in the early hours of the morning. The first of the suns illuminating the valley with a faded magenta light. Eman unzipped his pod and emerged with a yawn, his breath visible and ghostly. He was still hazy and somehow felt less rested than when he arrived. His mind had been clouded with dreams of before, dreams of his father. A breeze stirred up the surrounding flora, the rustling of their leaves the only sound in the valley.

Eman went about setting up his few pieces of equipment. Seismic monitoring, full spectrum electromagnetic analysis, and material analysis would have to be done via the ship. For now, Eman brandished his handheld scanner after setting up a recorder and atmospheric sensors. He meandered over to the structure after about forty minutes of walking around the near perimeter og the crater. The scanner buzzed in his hand as the blue display provided some basic numerical data of the structure. After Eman had confirmed this was indeed a rectangular prism and definitely alien to this planet, he reached his free hand out to touch the monolith's surface.

Y’enute, ckaemo Svlada! D’udu der Ay’umanadis.

The voice came into Emans mind like a violent hail storm. Defining the inside of his mind and causing him to fall to his knees in pain. Eman spent several moments catching his breath, his eyes blurred and hands shaking as he tried to compose himself. When his eyes finally focused, heart setting back, Eman realized it was now dusk. A low hum was growing from the base of the monument now. Slowly, it grew more intense causing Eman to stumble back as if something was pushing him backward. Eman’s eyes grew large as the sky became darker, too fast to be logical. The stars grew so bright he had to put a hand in front of his eyes. The monolith began to lume over him with nothing but the sense of malice behind it. What in god's name is going on. Eman thought, scrambling back to his sleep pod.

Eman gathered his basic kit and ran as fast as he could. Stumbling and bashing his way through the thick forest near the cliff face. Branches sliced at his arms and face, the sound of his heaving breath echoing through the wood.

K’ayuninad… K’ayuninad… K’ayuninad…

The voice found its way back into his mind. Tearing at the inside of his brain like an animal caught in a trap. He continued sprinting through the woods, a clearing making itself known just a few dozen meters in front of him now. When he breached the clearing he let out a scream of primal fear. The monolith was there. There are more? Eman thought, mind aching as the voice continued. He then squinted his eyes, his terror growing even more. His sleep pod was there, the same spot as before along with his smaller instruments.

K’ayuninad… K’ayuninad… K’ayuninad…

The voice was growing fainter, but more prevalent in its tone. It was no longer a horrifyingly frantic screech. The voice was now more feminine in nature. Eman did not understand the words. He left the safety of the treeline and dumped his pack next to the sleep pod as he approached the structure again. The hum was now a low and consistent pulse. The stars returned to their original luminosity.

Em'na xir sa'roym… Em'na xir sa'roym… Em'na xir sa'roym…

The voice was changing somehow. Eman still did not understand. Was the voice changing at all? Eman was now on his knees in front of the monolith. The sweat on his skin glistened in the night. He was spaying back and forth, barely aware of the woman who was peaking at him from behind the structure. Her hair was jet black, blending in almost perfectly with the night sky. She was short, only about a meter and a half tall. Her thin arms connected to tiny frail hands that rested by her side. She was completely nude, her long hair covering her breasts and face. The voice now came from her, “Em'an ir s'roy… Em'an ir s'roy… Em'an ir s'roy…” She repeated as she approached Eman. He knew she was there but he was unable to react, frozen in a trance. She knelt down in front of Eman, he could smell the scent of her skin. It reminded him of something, someone.

* * *

Eman was twelve when it happened. He had just come home from school. His father left for another expedition a day prior. They seemed so happy then. He opened the door to their habitat pod on Epsolus One to see shoes he did not recognize, womens shoes. He heard giggling from his parents room as he followed the trail of garments. He would never forget the look on his mothers face, the horror. The situation was firmly punctuated by a message from the council. Eman’s father had died on that expedition, never knowing his wife's betrayal.

Eman never forgave his mother for what she did. They hadn’t spoken since he left home a decade ago. He hated the fact that she tainted so many of his memories. He hated the fact that he still thought of her, even now. She tried everything to mend things between them. Each attempt falling into a disastrous argument. They would both say things they would come to regret. His mother would still try to reconcile, even though all her communications fell to deaf ears, she still tried. Eman was her only son.

When the council informed Eman that his mother had passed, her wife with her in her final moments, he did not react. He thought he would be more shocked, more upset, anything. He had all her messages saved in the ship's data storage. He never understood why he could not delete them, even though he had tried many times. The day he received word from the council he was on route to some backwater world, likely devoid of life. He sat at the ship's console staring at the display, the most recent message on the main display. The ship read it out to him in its usual cold tone, “Eman, I am sorry. I will always love you. My perfect, my only, my sun.”

* * *

When Eman awoke the woman was gone. The voice was silent and the hum from the monolith had vanished as if it never happened. It was midday now. He was splayed outside his sleeping pod, the morning dew making his clothes damp and cold. Eman was still hazy. Convinced last night was just a dream, he packed his instruments and sleep pod. Heaving his pack, he stared at the structure for a moment. A chill ran down his spine. An almost overwhelming guilt was weighing down on his chest now. Eman let his head drop as he turned to the forest, heading back to the ship. He could see broken branches and disturbed mud a few meters west of him as he entered the forest. Almost as if an animal had come through the treeline during the night.

Eman, I am sorry…

Hey Y'all! Thanks for reading. This is a proof of concept. Just trying to get more writing out there and practice a bit more. A lot of ideas from this I want to implement in my main work The Stellar Man(working title).

Please comment your thoughts I appreciate the feedback!

-Mas

Most mistake him for a shooting star, dashing across the sky of every world as a brilliant streak of light. So bright is he, that for a moment, he is seen as beautiful. Then he turns, his wonderful flight of chance transforming into a decent of purpose, a purpose that is not that of beauty. His purpose is to find worlds seeded with organic life. His purpose is that of the scythe to the fall harvest. Whatever lies in the bosom of lush worlds will gaze upon him as a falling star, set to burn.

Why can't I remember? Has is been that long? It was so dark before. No matter, my name is not important anymore. I am light. I am warmth. I am entropy.

For millennium, the man made of stars shot through the cosmos. Only knowing his one true purpose bestowed upon him by the Seeker. Each world he found was, to him, a stray with a broken leg. His purpose was empathy. He could feel the suffering like like an ice pick being driven through his eye. The pain guiding him to these worlds as an act of mercy... Mercy? His mercy?

I am formless to myself. Nothing but a collection of whims to be set upon these worlds. I am formless but, I can be perceived. I am the comet they see, I am light. If I wish to be Seen, I am a man. I am a man made of light so brilliant and pure that me features are that of chrome. The Seeker gave me this. To the Seeker, I give him life. To life, I give unto thee wafer and cross.

The first worlds to be culled went with a whimper. Begging and pleading turned to rioting rage and anguish. The will of many seeping out to the rest of the cosmos like pools of blood soaking into a fine carpet. The fabric of reality was changing with every bit of light that was extinguished. The Seeker watched this brilliant dance of mass evisceration with glee. His hands danced as if conducting an orchestra.

Oh, how exquisite you are, my stellar man. I am still hungry. Will you bring me my wine and grape?

The Seeker watched each wold being harvest through the eyes of his loyal servant. His hunger never waning. Even when the worlds of the many began to feel the losses. They would send ship and man. They would send weapons of insignificance to what could only be described as an act of God.

Is your God still listening?

Must I keep feeling this pain? Must I got on for eternity to see the final act of entropy? Will his hunger ever wane? Will my light go out once he is satisfied? Another millennia, another world, more life put out with the mashing of his heel? My heel.

This world was lush and green. Emerald seas draped across it like a fine gown on a queen. This was the emerald stone of the constellation Orion. He looked upon it, like all others before, and he could see the trees. He could smell the oceans salty embrace, he bore witness to the giving of life. He felt the pain in the sorrow of their losses as their loved ones succumbed to life itself. He gazed upon if for a time. Longer than he should have. He turned down to it now, taking on the speed of light itself. He could see its molten center humming the song of existence to all those above it. It spun like a ballerina, and hummed with the familiarity and hope of a heart.

He pressed on, through the upper atmosphere that now began to show itself as a crimson dawn to those on the coast. He entered the warm depths of its sea, sending a wave as high as any mountain. That only lasted a moment as the water instantly evaporated, eviscerating every atom of water in the worlds ocean at once. He could hear their screams. He continued on through the crust. Deeper still, until he could feel the warmth of the the core. He slowed for an imperceivable amount of time. To him, it was an eternity, gazing upon the beating heart of it all. He continued inside of it.

I deliver thee, to the Seeker of all things. May this end begin that of what we seek. Let this be the beginning of the end. May this feed... Entropy.

In a flash the world imploded on itself for a moment. Once it reached its limit the Emerald shattered violently, sending itself in every direction with a stunning ball of fire in its center. Then... silence. Heavy, unyielding, silence.

And yet... he is still hungry. How many more... How many MORE!

Until it is done, my star...

Part 1: Ash and Fire

Her name was Eden. A human woman from Azury, the third planet in the Alnitak system. Her planet is part of the Orion Galactic Republic (OGP). OGP is made of the three stars in Orion's Belt, Alnitak being the primary stronghold for the OGP. Eden never knew anything else other than the orange fields of Azury. She often looked up into the sky at night on her parents land and wondered what the other Orion star systems were like.

The Flash came not three days after Eden had finally saved enough currency to travel to Delta in the Mintaka system. Years she worked as a teacher, barely making enough to live, let alone travel the stars like her mother encouraged.

The ocean of stars is something the soul must witness. The last great ocean yet to be explored.

Her mother traveled the stars as part of the Orion Peace Corps after the Great Cataclysm. Now, she stayed on their land, too sick to travel any longer. Her heart begged for the stars again. Eden had taken that wonder for the stars and placed it deep into her heart. For that is where her mother told her she would always be. The Flash occurred on an Orion planet in the Shield sector and could be seen during the daytime on Azury. The feed erupted with warnings, headlines showed casualty numbers, the people with connections there could not fathom what had happened. An entire planet, gone. Billions of people, erased from this reality.

What was this reality?

My soul... where did he put it? My mind is mine? I have become an instrument only to him. I am growing tired of this song. The song of eternity, the song... of Death.

The Teacher had been waiting in the main terminal for interstellar departures. The terminal was large with vaulted steel and aluminum ceilings. Many humans and Uhrs trod or rushed to their specified gates that arched high enough for a shuttle to slip through. Large holographic displays showed inbound and outbound transports for those without implants. The cold gray and ivory colors of it all always gave the Teacher a chill. Eden looked inward the the same way one might when daydreaming. Her internal implant stunned her with the news of the Flash. The pit in her stomach only grew as satellite imagery was being shown of what took place just prior to the Flash.

Is... was... was that a star? A star... colliding with a planet?

It made no sense to Eden. Her heart pounded and she could feel a cool sweat start to take over her pale skin. A notification hit the center of her vision.

Transport to Delta, Mintaka system, will be departing in five minutes. Please have passes ready for the boarding agent.

Eden shook her head as the notification faded from her feed. All she had was a knapsack and a hard case piece of luggage. She hoisted the hard cased container and let out a sigh. Her heart was now just starting to ease to its calmer rhythm. Even if stars were beginning to fall from the sky, what could be done? Life is finite, only an act of God could stop Eden from embarking on her life's dream.

Your God is dead...

My eyes see all. I am simply the organizer of the things yet to come. See it now, the canary in the mine. Your eyes saw my agents work and God, is it grand! Soon you will know your end. Soon you will know him. I see you therefore, he sees you.

---

Hey all,Thanks for reading! If you enjoy this idea I will be expanding this along side Void Heart. Been having a lot of fun writing again so if you have an comments or suggestions please let me know!!

-Mas

When the 'ping' of the alarm sounded Sgt. Gronkowski didn't immediately react; he was supposedly watching the radar monitor for evidence of Soviet ICBMs or other unusual events but he was contemplating a hamburger which had just arrived and was deciding exactly where to take the first bite. Such decisions are not to be hurried. A poor choice and his hand or worse,his pants, would be covered in ketchup. the captain wouldn’t be pleased and he could end up on report. Why, he wondered, hadn't someone devised a doughnut shaped burger so that the sauce could be confined to the centre. Come to that, why hadn't they devised a burger that didn't need the dislocating jaw of an anaconda to take a bite? Why hadn't they devised the beef sandwich?

Having made his decision and taken a bite and the alarm having become more insistent he turned his attention to the screen before him, chewing slowly (Sgt. Gronkowski was a multi-tasker which was why he’d been promoted). What he saw was a 'trace' showing the path of an object detected by the long range radar. Sgt.Gronkowski stopped chewing and stabbed a key on his keyboard. The screen changed to show an extension of the actual trace both backward and forward in time thus showing the estimated origin of the object and its predicted destination. A further keypress produced the statement that the object originated from outside the Earth's atmosphere and could be either a meteorite or a missile launched into Earth orbit. The direction of travel suggested no likely source on the Earth's surface so the probability was that the object was extraterrestrial in origin. For confirmation Gronkowski pressed yet another key to restore the trace. This showed the object rapidly losing altitude with an estimated 'landfall' in mid-Pacific. Gronkowski re-commenced chewing and returned his attention

momentarily to his burger to plan his next assault. When next he glanced at the screen the trace had disappeared and a keypunch showed the object to have landed as predicted. Gronkowski entered a note on the sighting 'Meteorite' and turned to the more urgent problem of his hunger.

In Mexico the same alarm went totally unremarked. It was Siesta!

So it was that the craft escaped notice and drifted across Central America to the Caribbean before turning north towards Europe. Keeping to mid-Atlantic the craft attracted little attention since it thereby avoided territorial airspace. When it began to approach British airspace it was challenged to identify itself. It failed to respond to several such challenges and so an interceptor aircraft was scrambled to investigate. The pilot eventually reported sighting the strange craft but could obtain no response; 'buzzing' had no effect, the craft maintaining a steady course and speed. He requested permission to destroy the craft. The consternation produced by this request resulted in such a delay that when authority was finally granted the craft was touching down at Heathrow airport. In fact, having no undercarriage it ‘came to earth’ rather than ‘touched down’, then skidded along the tarmac in a shower of sparks and finally came to rest close to the perimeter fence.

For the last part of its journey it was pursued by two fire tenders which immediately swamped the craft in a blanket of foam. There being no sign of movement from the craft and lacking signs of fire or explosion the firemen eventually cleared the foam with water hoses.

At this point Security (in an armoured personnel carrier) screeched to a stop alongside the craft and a number of heavily armed men in flak jackets surrounded the craft falling to the ground. assuming menacing attitudes and pointing their weapons toward the craft. Nothing happened!; the men relaxed, lit cigarettes and began to chat amongst themselves. So it was that they didn't notice the appearance of a fine crack in the skin of the craft which presently could be identified as a door. When the door crashed onto the tarmac it caused considerable surprise and alarm but nothing more happened other than the sudden appearance of a small figure dressed in ill-fitting top hat and tails. He held nothing more menacing than a silver-topped cane. The clothes appeared to have been made for a much larger person.

Nevertheless the security men immediately adopted defensive positions - prone on the ground with weapons pointed in the general direction of the door.

'Oh please don't stand on ceremony', said the small figure, 'All this fuss is quite unnecessary. I merely wish to speak to the Prime Minister, I'm afraid I don't have an appointment. Could you organize that for me, please?'

Abashed,the security men scrambled to their feet and one of their number hastily spoke into a two-way radio. Shortly thereafter an immigration official arrived.

'Can I see your passport please? What's the purpose of your visit, business or pleasure, do you have a valid visa?'

When he didn’t receive an acceptable response the official placed the ‘visitor’ under arrest and took him to the terminal building where he was closely confined as an illegal immigrant. No-one thought to ask whence he came, how he

came or how he spoke English, even if with rather antiquated intonation.

The sole information they could extract was that he wished to see the Prime Minister as quickly as possible. Thus it was that the reason for the visit was given and his demand met.

He explained to the PM that his forefather had been assigned the task of investigating the activity of a German naval vessel which had appeared in the North Sea and was suspected of carrying out trials of a submersible. Disguised as a weather ship tasked with meteorological data gathering. they appeared close to the German craft.

The German captain was seated conspicuously in the stern, smoking a meerschaum pipe and apparently fishing. Meanwhile a crewmember lurked about the deck nonchalantly watching what the new arrival was doing and occasionally disappearing from view but using a hand-held periscope keeping them under investigation from behind deck fittings.

To appear to be innocently engaged they released a weather balloon which to their astonishment immediately disappeared! They of course suspected the Germans as being responsible and promptly released a second balloon whilst keeping a close eye on the Germans. This balloon disappeared in like manner and when a third also disappeared they decided they had better report this strange occurrence without delay and so made off at speed for London.

On arrival a hasty conference concluded that they had stumbled upon a hole in the atmosphere and the presence of a German vessel in the area made it imperative that some action should be taken without delay.

Accordingly it was decided to kit out a manned balloon to confirm the presence of this ‘hole’, and so it was that in the greatest secrecy, at the dead of night, a balloon was equipped with a thermos flask of tea, a packet of Rich Tea biscuits and a wheel of Cheddar cheese in case of emergencies. So equipped Sir Peter Skott and his man ,Basil ventured forth. Jettisoning all ballast the balloon rose and rose - and rose, ever accelerating and finally popped through the hole in the atmosphere like a champagne cork escaping its bottle.

Having escaped Earth’s gravitational pull they began to fall and Mars, being at this time below Earth they were eventually captured by Mars's gravitation and so eventually arrived there.

Mars having rather weak gravity they landed with a gentle bump and without damage to the balloon’s wicker basket. Clambering out and gazing around Sir Peter saw a desolate landscape scattered with what seemed to be toy windmills endlessly twirling in the breeze. Unconcerned, Sir Peter reached into the wicker basket of the balloon, extracted a Union Jack flag and pushed it into the ground and proclaimed this territory as being now part of the British Empire!

At this point a nearby rock face hissed aside revealing a small hairy figure dressed in a small pill-box hat and a uniform. Sir Peter was so surprised that he lost his grip on his monocle which floated gently down to his waist.

Ever polite, Sir Peter addressed the ‘dwarf’: “Good evening, my man!”

The dwarf responded:” Going down! Are you coming? It gets chilly up here at this time of day. ” Waving them to join him Sir Peter and Basil did as requested.

Sir Peter said “ I say, my man, could you take me to see your leader?”

“Going down!” responded the dwarf. “Dash it!”, exclaimed Sir Peter, “These Americans seem to get everywhere!”

“I shouldn’t worry, sir” murmured Basil “They’re probably tourists!

To be continued……

When the 'ping' of the alarm sounded Sgt. Gronkowski didn't immediately react; he was supposedly watching the radar monitor for evidence of Soviet ICBMs or other unusual events but he was contemplating a hamburger which had just arrived and was deciding exactly where to take the first bite. Such decisions are not to be hurried. A poor choice and his hand or worse,his pants, would be covered in ketchup. the captain wouldn’t be pleased and he could end up on report. Why, he wondered, hadn't someone devised a doughnut shaped burger so that the sauce could be confined to the centre. Come to that, why hadn't they devised a burger that didn't need the dislocating jaw of an anaconda to take a bite? Why hadn't they devised the beef sandwich?

Having made his decision and taken a bite and the alarm having become more insistent he turned his attention to the screen before him, chewing slowly (Sgt. Gronkowski was a multi-tasker which was why he’d been promoted). What he saw was a 'trace' showing the path of an object detected by the long range radar. Sgt.Gronkowski stopped chewing and stabbed a key on his keyboard. The screen changed to show an extension of the actual trace both backward and forward in time thus showing the estimated origin of the object and its predicted destination. A further keypress produced the statement that the object originated from outside the Earth's atmosphere and could be either a meteorite or a missile launched into Earth orbit. The direction of travel suggested no likely source on the Earth's surface so the probability was that the object was extraterrestrial in origin. For confirmation Gronkowski pressed yet another key to restore the trace. This showed the object rapidly losing altitude with an estimated 'landfall' in mid-Pacific. Gronkowski re-commenced chewing and returned his attention

momentarily to his burger to plan his next assault. When next he glanced at the screen the trace had disappeared and a keypunch showed the object to have landed as predicted. Gronkowski entered a note on the sighting 'Meteorite' and turned to the more urgent problem of his hunger.

In Mexico the same alarm went totally unremarked. It was Siesta!

So it was that the craft escaped notice and drifted across Central America to the Caribbean before turning north towards Europe. Keeping to mid-Atlantic the craft attracted little attention since it thereby avoided territorial airspace. When it began to approach British airspace it was challenged to identify itself. It failed to respond to several such challenges and so an interceptor aircraft was scrambled to investigate. The pilot eventually reported sighting the strange craft but could obtain no response; 'buzzing' had no effect, the craft maintaining a steady course and speed. He requested permission to destroy the craft. The consternation produced by this request resulted in such a delay that when authority was finally granted the craft was touching down at Heathrow airport. In fact, having no undercarriage it ‘came to earth’ rather than ‘touched down’, then skidded along the tarmac in a shower of sparks and finally came to rest close to the perimeter fence.

For the last part of its journey it was pursued by two fire tenders which immediately swamped the craft in a blanket of foam. There being no sign of movement from the craft and lacking signs of fire or explosion the firemen eventually cleared the foam with water hoses.

At this point Security (in an armoured personnel carrier) screeched to a stop alongside the craft and a number of heavily armed men in flak jackets surrounded the craft falling to the ground. assuming menacing attitudes and pointing their weapons toward the craft. Nothing happened!; the men relaxed, lit cigarettes and began to chat amongst themselves. So it was that they didn't notice the appearance of a fine crack in the skin of the craft which presently could be identified as a door. When the door crashed onto the tarmac it caused considerable surprise and alarm but nothing more happened other than the sudden appearance of a small figure dressed in ill-fitting top hat and tails. He held nothing more menacing than a silver-topped cane. The clothes appeared to have been made for a much larger person.

Nevertheless the security men immediately adopted defensive positions - prone on the ground with weapons pointed in the general direction of the door.

'Oh please don't stand on ceremony', said the small figure, 'All this fuss is quite unnecessary. I merely wish to speak to the Prime Minister, I'm afraid I don't have an appointment. Could you organize that for me, please?'

Abashed,the security men scrambled to their feet and one of their number hastily spoke into a two-way radio. Shortly thereafter an immigration official arrived.

'Can I see your passport please? What's the purpose of your visit, business or pleasure, do you have a valid visa?'

When he didn’t receive an acceptable response the official placed the ‘visitor’ under arrest and took him to the terminal building where he was closely confined as an illegal immigrant. No-one thought to ask whence he came, how he

came or how he spoke English, even if with rather antiquated intonation.

The sole information they could extract was that he wished to see the Prime Minister as quickly as possible. Thus it was that the reason for the visit was given and his demand met.

He explained to the PM that his forefather had been assigned the task of investigating the activity of a German naval vessel which had appeared in the North Sea and was suspected of carrying out trials of a submersible. Disguised as a weather ship tasked with meteorological data gathering. they appeared close to the German craft.

The German captain was seated conspicuously in the stern, smoking a meerschaum pipe and apparently fishing. Meanwhile a crewmember lurked about the deck nonchalantly watching what the new arrival was doing and occasionally disappearing from view but using a hand-held periscope keeping them under investigation from behind deck fittings.

To appear to be innocently engaged they released a weather balloon which to their astonishment immediately disappeared! They of course suspected the Germans as being responsible and promptly released a second balloon whilst keeping a close eye on the Germans. This balloon disappeared in like manner and when a third also disappeared they decided they had better report this strange occurrence without delay and so made off at speed for London.

On arrival a hasty conference concluded that they had stumbled upon a hole in the atmosphere and the presence of a German vessel in the area made it imperative that some action should be taken without delay.

Accordingly it was decided to kit out a manned balloon to confirm the presence of this ‘hole’, and so it was that in the greatest secrecy, at the dead of night, a balloon was equipped with a thermos flask of tea, a packet of Rich Tea biscuits and a wheel of Cheddar cheese in case of emergencies. So equipped Sir Peter Skott and his man ,Basil ventured forth. Jettisoning all ballast the balloon rose and rose - and rose, ever accelerating and finally popped through the hole in the atmosphere like a champagne cork escaping its bottle.

Having escaped Earth’s gravitational pull they began to fall and Mars, being at this time below Earth they were eventually captured by Mars's gravitation and so eventually arrived there.

Mars having rather weak gravity they landed with a gentle bump and without damage to the balloon’s wicker basket. Clambering out and gazing around Sir Peter saw a desolate landscape scattered with what seemed to be toy windmills endlessly twirling in the breeze. Unconcerned, Sir Peter reached into the wicker basket of the balloon, extracted a Union Jack flag and pushed it into the ground and proclaimed this territory as being now part of the British Empire!

At this point a nearby rock face hissed aside revealing a small hairy figure dressed in a small pill-box hat and a uniform. Sir Peter was so surprised that he lost his grip on his monocle which floated gently down to his waist.

Ever polite, Sir Peter addressed the ‘dwarf’: “Good evening, my man!”

The dwarf responded:” Going down! Are you coming? It gets chilly up here at this time of day. ” Waving them to join him Sir Peter and Basil did as requested.

Sir Peter said “ I say, my man, could you take me to see your leader?”

“Going down!” responded the dwarf. “Dash it!”, exclaimed Sir Peter, “These Americans seem to get everywhere!”

“I shouldn’t worry, sir” murmured Basil “They’re probably tourists!

To be continued……

Design of Doom

The engineer paced back and forth in her home. Her hands felt like they were being pricked with many needles.

She felt dizzy and decided to lay down for a bit on the couch. The lights started to flicker.

‘What now?’ She thought to herself. Had a new set of drones followed her to her home?

She jumped on her feet and rushed to the kitchen. She placed her hand on the table. A scanner read her finger prints.

The table slowly shifted a bit higher from its current spot and started to slide to the right, revealing a passage to the lower level of the house.

She quickly moved down the staircase. She hit the button below the table to close the hidden passage.

‘Time to get down to business.’ She folded her shirt sleeves & clapped her steady hands.

Lights immediately came on as she walked down the corridor. At the end of the small hallway, there was a blue door. She lowered her head by the entrance.

A beam of light scanned her face and then her eyes. She heard the sound of the locks clicking. She pushed the door and walked into a giant underground home lab.

Ah, this was perfect. The monitors were all up and running giving her a view of the whole house from different rooms, & angles.

She gasped when she saw a figure running past the front door. So, they had sent a cyborg this time. Her boss was getting quite desperate.

She shook her head. He could send an army of bots and she would still find a way to defeat them.

Thanks to her newest & advanced creation— she could take her boss out. After all she deserved to be the head of the company. Her boss’ time was up. He was going to have to face her and her design of doom.

‘Baby steps.’ She thought to herself. She would beat him at his own game!

#CORVUS.

All Right Reserved.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UNk6LTZYokk&pp=ygUJc2FkZXlyaWNz0gcJCWIABgo59PVc

HAB-1 was put into low Earth orbit at the end of the year 2121. HAB-1 was no different than any other space station, except for its record setting size and ability to generate artificial gravity. The large spire was adorned with two rings called GravityWalk's. (very descriptive name I know.) At full capacity it can house five hundred crew with the ability to serve as a small staging port to the lunar and martian bases. For the most part, HAB-1 was a corporate scientific facility with the main goal of studying exotic materials that can't be studied on Earth. Now though, HAB-1 has become the place where rookie nauts come to learn how to do space shit before moving to the outer rim bases or HAB-2. (Freshly constructed with an even cooler name too!)

HAB-1 is being decommissioned after ten long years of service to NewGen. NewGen is the main space corp. from Earth. They took over the space agency NASA in the late 2100's after a few billionaires lobbied to privatize space (still trying to figure out how one can privatize space but hey, I am just a lowly scientist what do I know.) Like most corporations, NewGen only cares about one thing -- profit. There have been plenty of scandals around work deaths, horrible work conditions leading to death, and poor accommodations for their employees that (you guessed it) led to even more deaths. Fortunately, some politicians on Earth grew a pair when NewGen proposed the HAB station. Having a giant space needle that could fall to Earth with the same force as a nuclear bomb (gravity is awesome) made a few people a little apprehensive about the lack of government oversight of NewGen. That means the HAB is one of the most refined posts of any NewGen gig. Only the best can work here and given its the safest too, there is a lot of competition. Lucky for me though, my mommy works here.

I am sure you are disappointing I am a nepo-baby. To you I say, "go fuck yourself". I still had to go to MIT and Princeton for physics and work at CERN for five years. (That place is such a dump now.) So, I would say I am pretty qualified to do some bullshit material synthesis work on a dying station being put out to pasture. My mother, Erisia, is a doctor. Worked out of Boston most of my youth either At MGH or teaching at Harvard medical school. (We lived in Waltham but we tell everyone we're from Boston.) My mother always pushed for me to use my brain and pursue science. I wanted to be like my father and pursue music. After my first guitar lesson though, I made the executive decision to try science out. I actually ended up liking the world of physics by the time I started applying to colleges, and my mother really liked the fact I somehow got accepted into MIT. She even called her hair dresser to tell him.

My father was always supportive of whatever I wanted to do. Makes me wonder how a free spirit like him got with such a stiff-dick like my mother. (Something tells me a lot of drugs were involved, given the amount of Grateful Dead records my dad had.) Dad died when I was about fifteen. Some idiot kids stole a car from his university's student parking lot one night. Dad had just finished up teaching a night lesson for his classical guitar students. Those assholes didn't even stop. Cops told us the car was torched the next town over. First time ever I saw my mother cry. I had to move into the dorms the next day. They never ended up finding those asshole kids but I have three Phd's now so who's really winning now?

The shuttle up to HAB-1 is... janky as shit to put it mildly. My mother had done this trip half a dozen times but still prayed on liftoff and docking. I may have said a prayer or two myself. Docking went smooth, deck hands guided us to the spire lift in zero-g with impressive efficiency. I bounced off a few walls on the tube to the spire lift. (It was fun being a human pinball). My mother made one swift leap from the shuttle to the lift, looking at me as if she was about to scold me. "Stop acting like a child Zoey" she said through gritted teeth. (That made me shit myself a bit but my face didn't show it -- I think.) We rode the lift to the main GravWalk, about halfway up the almost kilometer long central spire of HAB-1. The lift opened to a long rectangular hallway with ladder rungs on opposite sides. Climbing down(up?) the ladder was a strange feeling as I could feel my body get heavier as we approached the bottom (top?) of the passageway. We both stepped directly onto a platform, being lowered down on essentially a service elevator once we both made contact.

- - -

The bridge of HAB-1 was our first stop after getting deconed getting off the lift. (I can still smell the Neutro-Spray on my jumpsuit and boy does it not smell like "fresh linen".) Captain Bron stood in the center of the bridge with his hands clasped behind his back. His jumpsuit was a little nicer than the main crews adorning a few strips down the side of each shoulder and buttons instead of zippers and Velcro. He turned as the heavy bulkhead doors slid shut behind us. "Ladies, welcome to HAB-1. I am Captain Bron, it is a pleasure to have you both on board as we make our final rotation." My mother reached out to shake his hand first, "It's an honor, sir. I was the first doctor on HAB's first rotation. It is truly sad to see the old girl go."

"Sad indeed." Bron let his head drop for a moment before turning to me, "You must be our new science officer, correct Ms. Smith?"

"Ms. Smith is my mother, please call me Zoey, sir. It's an absolute trip to be here for the first time!" My mother shot a glare at me. Bron just smirked and let out a soft chuck as he shook my hand, "Pleasure to have you aboard, Zoey. Martin over there will show you to your quarters and give you the grand tour. The HAB has seen better days so try to be careful and listen to Martins safety brief like your life depended on it." Bron let slip a devious smirk and then motioned towards Martin who was just behind us, getting up from his display station. As we began to part ways with Captain Bron a massive tremor shook the bridge violently. Display surfaces blinked sporadically and the sound of groaning metal was almost deafening. I almost went to the floor, as well as my mother. Bron somehow stood more steady. He barked over the yelps and sounds of groaning metal, "Status!" A young woman yelled in response, "Green sir, CMP-12665 test just finished. Looks like an aftershock from the labs. Hull is green, life support green. All other systems coming back online now!"

"Good." Bron said, letting out an almost invisible sigh of relief. The groaning subsided slowly as displays began to stop flickering. I steadied myself on a nearby railing, "What the fuck was that!" I yelled.

"That, Ms. Smith, is why we are all here." Bron smirked again. Martin ran over to my mother and I, "This way ladies." He said in a a monotone low voice. My mother and I shared a glance. (Not a glare this time at least.) Bron turned back to the main display, clasping his hands behind his back as we left the bridge.

This is the end of what I will expand into the prologue of Void Heart. This is a very rough draft after not written anything since high school. Please point out any errors and leave your comments/suggestions! I hope to release a draft of parts of this book regularly. (A few times a month hopefully!) Thank you for reading!

-Massimo (the author I guess...)

The Geonzell was dark as we sprinted through. Our steps metallic and rapid across the path. At long intervals, there were dim lamps of crackling neon blue light, some sort of plasmic substance of unknown origins. The staff in my hand, attuned to the star of Cosma, hummed and released small strings of power each time we passed one. If worse came to worse, I could probably use its power in a fight. Each time we passed one, I hoped we would not have to fight.

I felt disoriented here. My sense of space and time skewed with my link to the stars cut off. I didn't even know what level we had ended up on. The airship was a beast in size, its underbelly as long as a battleship and dipped in a way that made it impossible to see its end, but I didn't need to see its end—that was not my job—I just needed to make sure no one was following us.

I peered over my shoulder a fourth time, into shadows and a hall with no end.

"Almost there," said Tzader.

I didn't look forward to our destination either.

"After this bend there should be a hatch that'll take us to our exit," he called.

I made a face. 'Exit' was not the word I'd use. The term was propaganda in the face of the spithole he was referring to, but I didn't voice this—lest I wanted Tzader's mockeries to be added to my list of problems.

A room ahead caught my eye and I pushed my staff in front of him to slow his pace. "Wait, there could be an ambush," I warned.

Tzader came to a stop and allowed me to go ahead. I twirled my staff once, warming its energy in preparation. A crescent of gears hung over the gem of Cosma at its end, they spun in tandem with the staff's motion, and I kept it moving.

Nimbly, I slid to the corner of the hall's end, erasing the clanging of my footsteps as I neared. I sensed two presences, but at a distance, their spirits docile. I risked a peek around the corner and spotted no one in the hall itself. Instead, two large cells took up the back wall before the path broke away. I twirled my staff back down, its gem safely pointed towards the floor, then I rounded the corner freely, forgetting to inform Tzader.

"Oi!" He must have sensed them too.

"Its fine," I said distractedly. It was hard not to be upon facing the person in the cell. His eyes already on me before I could step into the opening. He sat referentially on the ground like some kind of ancient king. His hair the colour of midnight, long and straight, his eyes deep purple and powerful. On his mouth was a mechanical muter with retractable creases that wrapped the full length around his face. When he saw the both of us, he rose. Long, regal clothes followed him, cascading down as he stood tall. With his hands behind his back, he looked down on us with no real malice, but that in itself was threatening, for his power was great. My staff rattled in response.

"Whoa," voiced Tzader, "Who's this?"

"Don't know, but he must be important enough to have his own secluded cell." And not just any cell. No metal bars or a visible lock, just a cosmic field that looked like a transparent layer of space dust and various strokes from a paint brush. It shifted slowly between our gazes.

"Think he can hear us?" asked Tzader.

"I doubt it..." I gestured the words: "Can you?" as I spoke them. His demeanor didn't change, he just watched for a while longer, then slowly looked to his left and back to us. His left held the second cell, one he could not possibly see into. But we would if we kept to our trek down the hall.

He did not seem to care much about our presence, but I couldn't tell if that made him a friend or foe. I peeled down the collar of my robes and showed him the tattoo that rested there. The emblem of our people and our cause.

He took long to react—to the point where I began to wonder if he really was looking down on us, but finally he shook his head. I narrowed my eyes and pulled out the badge of Zemnas that helped us break through many of the doors here. I circled the enemy's crest with my finger and then pointed to him.

He shook his head again.

"I'm gonna break him free," said Tzader without warning.

"What? Are you crazy? He just said he's not one of us. We don't know who he is or why he's down here. He could be a serial killer for all we know." I refuted but knew once Tzader had decided this, there was really no stopping him.

"He also said he's not one of them and any enemy of our enemy has gotta be a friend, right?" Tzader had already rolled up his sleeves. The gems embedded into his arms pulsed and warbled the air around them. His fingers curled diabolically and Tzader smirked as if the illegal activity of the day had only now turned fun for him. And of course it was; it's not like he ever found joy in logic.

"Things must be so simple in that mind of yours," I muttered as the field shook and swirled in on itself before popping out of existence. Suddenly, nothing stood between us and the regal man, and my staff was back up at the ready in case he was hostile.

He'd watched the field go down but did not move. Instead, his expression went serious and he shook his head a third time and nodded his chin to his left, directing our attention there again.

"Huh?!" said Tzader, clearly confused. "The heck is wrong with him? Who rejects freedom?"

My mind was not quite as simple, and so I went to check the neighboring cell and was stunned to a standstill as my eyes fell upon the someone blindfolded there. She was but a child, curled up in rags that may have once been a dress and hugging herself with a shiver. Her hair was a blanket around her and a deep, dark blue. Thick, transparent wires and plugs stretched from the walls to her body.

The Geonzell rumbled.

I rushed back to Tzader, hesitating between the cells, and realized wires were connected to the man as well from the shadows behind. Spurred by the rumble, something like liquid plasma streamed from the ceiling through the cords, slowly making its way towards both inmates before pausing around the girl's restraints alone. Pre-emptively the man steeled himself, cementing his stance, clenching his jaw, and the neon liquid retracted away from the girl alone but continued towards him.

Ultimately, the man could not prevent what happened next.

The blue substance barreled through his body. His eyes glowed with the same toxic brightness as the blue pulsed around him, lighting the room, throttling my staff. And all at once, it drained him of colour and strength. The man could not even gasp or shout out in pain as he crumpled to the ground.

In response, the airship creaked and yawned all around them, and then lurched to the side as the structure no doubt rounded the final peak of the Gren mountain range; the final peak between the Geonzell and the start of a war; the final phase of their mission before the valley of their home. And if all went right in our plan, soon, this very ship would explode.

But it was also that very moment when the gears clicked in my head, and a buzzing took hold of my brain that I realized: this was the moment nothing would go right. Because of this man and the girl he was trying to protect, because Tzader had a heart of gold, because these people were the power source of the ship—not some mysterious plasmic substance of unknown origins. These people were the origins. The planned explosion... depended on them.

It felt like an eternity after the man was downed that the system finally stopped. The liquid draining away. The moaning of the ship muted.

"This is cruel," said Tzader, looking disgusted, the gems in his arms sparked and crackled in that way they did when he was furious. "There's no way I'm leaving him now."

He didn't understand.

In a moment, he propelled himself up into the man's cell and panic seeped into the deepest crevices of my chest.

"Wait!" I called, but the man reacted at once, swivelling his restraints away from Tzader as he took a defensive crouch. He was sweating, breathing heavily through his nose, but his stare was deadly. There was no way he knew of our plan, but it was his eyes—for a moment, a reflection of mine but—those eyes told me he understood the weight of whatever happened here. Like me, he had someone to protect.

"Th-there's a girl in the neighboring cell." I struggled to keep my voice level, keep my emotions impassive. I just needed to get Tzader to stop. "I think he's protecting her—" The man's eyes snapped to me, stealing my breath for a split second before my voice returned. "—If... if you're freeing him, I think we must free her first."

Don't free him. We can't free him. If we do, our people would die. There would be nothing to power the explosion, but they didn't need power to drop their poisons. I had people to protect. Not just one but a city in a valley. Was it selfish of me to think this man's burdens were that of just her? One girl to fight for. Versus one civilization of dreams and promises set ablaze on my neck. My thoughts were on fire.

Tzader's thoughts were simpler: "Then we free her." His voice was in front of me as he passed. I hadn't even seen when he approached.

Let me think! I wanted to pound the message into his thick skull. His every action fueled by blind beliefs. His stupid ideations. The 'we can save everyone' mentality. No sacrifices. Never that. Everything works out in the end. Happily ever afters make the world bend. This was Tzader. This was his faith.

My heart plummeted as he dispelled the second cell. It felt like the Geonzell made another lurching turn, but I knew it didn't.

We had no time for arguments, but he would never agree to whatever plots my mind was avoiding, and when it came down to it, I couldn't really beat Tzader in a fight. But he would want to save everyone. Could we save either of them?

Wait!

I watched him slice the toxic wiring around the girl who screamed and shuddered away. The only power source left growled with fury beneath his muter and I found myself raising a hand, placating him, reassuring him: "She's okay," I said, but my words felt hollow.

Why reassure him? I thought I was the logical one. Yet logic was letting me juggle the weight of this man's life, holding it on a scale with mine. Not my people but mine. It was my life that would be inconvenienced if this man didn't die. But Tzader didn't know that yet.

I gripped down on my staff so hard I was surprised it didn't snap. But it did rattle. Staying forever in motion. Continuously collecting its cosmic power while my breaths felt like they were collecting dust.

Tzader had donated the girl by my side and hopped back into the man's cell all too quickly. His hands gripped invisibly at his own power, his arms crackling in preparation for the final strike. But all the while, the power source kept his stare on me. Perhaps just as surprised as I to see my body snake behind my friend.

The buzzing filled my ears and the staff in my hand was raised high like a lantern. And flew down like a brushstroke. Its end colliding heavily with Tzader's thick head. And I watched his body crumple to the ground.

A defeated breath shook out of me. I stood stunned above my own action, watching the power source as he watched me. His gaze fell first, sliding to a spot beyond my back. I blinked and followed his eye to the girl. "Sh-she will be okay." I said. "I will protect her. But... but I—... you— I—"

I didn't have time for this. For my thoughts to make sense or for logic and reasoning to extract itself from things like empathy and regret. But he didn't wait for either. Much like Tzader, he didn't hesitate.

I watched him gather himself in a single stabilizing breath, clutching a knee as he sat referentially, one leg crossing with the other. He straightened his neck and back and rose his chin like a king sacrificing himself for his kingdom. Determination clung to his every breath, his gaze tightly bound onto some distant noble cause.

Like his thoughts were so clear. Like he knew exactly what he needed to do and was confident in his power to do it. Like he was so ready to sacrifice himself for just one. One girl.

While my fumbling fingers heaved Tzader up, ignoring the blood from his wound, I mounted his stomach over my shoulder. Then feeling like I couldn't breathe at all, I backed away. My bloodied staff fighting my hand as I flung it toward the girl, cushioning her in a nest my powers could carry. I had the power for this.

The power to sacrifice a life, to sacrifice a friendship, to sacrifice my emotions and its accompanying sanity; the power to run, the power to face my phobias and jump off an airship, the power to hold back tears, and then watch from far below, in a peaceful, bloodfree valley... I watched my soul explode.

For most people it’s sad to think about: Two subjects deemed fit for a sick experiment disguised as a technological advancement. The trial is the first, and could easily be the last.

It’s interesting to observe the popular movie trope and cliche first hand, as I am doing while watching Cade and Jasper. We’ve all heard of time loops from books and shows, an anomaly which Cade believes he is in. Jasper, on the other hand, doesn’t believe much of anything. As far as she knows, all of this is real life. She is really serving coffee to a stranger, his name is really Andrew, and she really loves her job. All of these are really not true. That’s what I mean by the “sad” part. The higher-ups will say that since she came from such a terrible life, it’s okay to use her for a study. It’s a harmless experiment, right? Jasper was a victim of an abusive relationship, hardly ever able to leave the house. She was brought here with scars and bruises like you’ve never seen. So is it okay for us to waste weeks, maybe months of her life because it’s “better” than what she had before? Good question.

Cade comes from a bit of a different story. As I mentioned before, he thinks he is in a time loop. In a way he is, but not through some anomaly of science or alternate universe. Instead through psycho-manipulation and a little bit is sedatives.

Geez, I’m getting ahead of myself. If you’ve got a moment I’ll explain. I’m sure this all sounds pretty confusing.

Cade and Jasper were brought here 74 days ago, Jasper with serious head injuries and Cade with a concussion from a fall he took after passing out. Both members sustained some sort of memory loss from the incidents, which our team took advantage of. The new discovery we are testing is called Psycho-Telepathic Pairing, or PTP for short. While Jasper and Cade’s brains were in a vulnerable, injured state, surgery was performed to tap into what we call “No-Man’s-Land.” You know how they say humans only use 10% of their brain? That’s a myth. However, there is one nearly microscopic region that remains unused and has been inactive since humans began writing things down. That’s No-Man’s-Land: unused potential in the brain. These surgeries’ goal was to inject a unique atomic compound called Neuro-7 into the No-Man’s-Land of Cade and Jasper. In theory, this “bluetooth” chemical is able to send signals or data from one cell to the other if separated. All this happens on a microscopic, atomic level of course. The other part of the theory is that No-Man’s-Land was once the region of the brain which allowed for, well, telekinesis. I know, it sounds crazy.

This area of the brain has been inactive for all of recorded history, due to the evolving of humans, their language, and artificial stimulants. Again, this is theory as we don’t know for sure why telekinetic energy disappeared in the first place. But what about this seemingly sick experiment? Well, the experiment is a carefully constructed scenario played over and over, meant to create the perfect environment for telekinesis to flourish. We believe it will take a long time for Cade and Jasper to develop that part of their brain, which will then allow for the Neuro-7 to take root. It’s like that section of their brain is still an infant; it needs to be developed, just like how a baby learns to walk. Now, about the experiment.

Cade thinks he is in a scientific anomaly time loop. He goes to the counter, grabs his coffee, drinks it, and everything goes black, starting the loop again when he wakes up. He can’t get out of the room and the waitress, Jasper, isn’t much help. Well, the coffee does in fact make him black out, but nothing more. Once he blacks out, a team swoops into action, resetting the scene. The coffee is removed, his posture is reset, and we wait for him to wake up as if the loop started over. And Jasper? She is drugged with the same stuff that’s in the coffee, only in gas form. The little coffee shop acts as a cage of sedative gas when the time comes. She falls asleep, we reset the room, brew a new cup of coffee, and wait. When they both wake up, the sedative will have erased their short-term memory, leaving only hand-picked long-term memories.

So why do they both believe they are in different realities? Well, Jasper was brought here with severe loss of memory and identity. She didn’t know who she was or where she came from. We proceeded to tell her that she was Jasper Collins, which she was, and that she was a barista, which she wasn’t. She loved this job and she would never want to quit. Things like that. Surprisingly, it worked. A little friendly brainwashing never hurts. So, she believes she is in real life, hence the continual happiness, diligence, and lack of asking questions. Cade is quite the opposite. A former drug addict, Cade was found on the streets raving about random science gibberish. He was delusional, using phrases like “space-time continuum” or “multiversal transportation.” But the most common delusion phrase he yelled was about a time loop. He was clearly influenced by mainstream sci-fi and would be easy to convince. He was put into a coma directly after his surgery and forced to listen to podcasts about time loops, movies about time loops, audiobooks about time loops… really anything mentioning time loops. All of this while in a concussed, once again vulnerable state. This influence, plus his prior drugged-persona of a mad scientist, instilled the idea firmly in his long-term memory. Just like that, the subjects were primed and ready.

Finally, the details. I promise it’s almost over. We believe it is important for Jasper and Cade to slowly build the ability to speak telekinetically on their own. We want them to hear each other’s thoughts. We believe they might even be able to feel each others’ feelings. So, that is why we gave Cade the alias of “Andrew.” He knows his name is Cade, but never tells Jasper out loud. He only thinks it. After all, what’s the point if he’s in a time loop? She would never believe him, and it wouldn’t make a difference. So, if Jasper ever begins to feel as though the name Andrew is a fake name, we will know it’s working. He told her in his mind.

We also believe telekinesis flourishes in a romantic relationship. It’s the strongest bond and not a lot of words are said. Like having a “moment.” There is a lot of room for sub-speech communication in these situations. This is why Jasper’s beauty is so paramount, so that Cade will be attracted to her. When she begins to look around in a panic, realizing something seems off, Cade will reassure her without saying a word. He’ll think “don’t worry,” and somehow she won’t. What can I say, he’s a romantic.

The success of this experiment largely banks on Cade not trying to convince Jasper that they are in a time loop; and her not believing him if he does try. Cade is conditioned to believe no one will ever take his word. He has always been the crazy addict on the corner, never able to convince anyone. Jasper, too, will never believe him. After all, she wouldn’t want to. She is sure she lives the perfect life she has always wanted, and doesn’t want anything to get in the way of it. She would never start to believe anything which puts her “reality” at risk. Her trauma from the abusive relationship feeds this disassociation. It really all works together perfectly.

So here’s the end of the theory: Cade will eventually telepathically tell Jasper that his name is not Andrew. She will understand, although she won’t know how she gained that information. Surprised, he will work to tell her more and more through his thoughts. After all, someone finally believes him. The more he tells her, the more they communicate, and the stronger their bond. Once they have developed their telekinetic ability over time, she will realize it, and confront him about it. Their brains will have molded together via both of their No-Man’s-Land and the Neuro-7 compound. By the end, they will both be aware of their telekinetic connection. Then the experiment will have to end. After that, who knows. There are too many variables in the next stage, so we haven’t planned any further. We don’t even know if it will work in the first place. I am skeptical, but I’ve got hope. It would be devastating for this to all come crashing down, leaving two scarred, brainwashed, and chemically altered people. No lives, no homes, and no memories.

If it does work… I don’t want to imagine what will happen to them. Nothing. I’m sure nothing will happen.

Yet I’m afraid something will happen.

Something terrible.