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THE HELICOIDAL STRUCTURE is massive when seen with the naked eye—the sensors of the Torragami—as I travel, assault-speed, down to the surface.
The analysis of the atmosphere detailed the same components of the atmosphere on A-001 and its four planets. No surprise here. However, it doesn’t shine turquoise as those planets did. Here, I’m able to see the landscapes from outer space.
A random alpha objective was selected. Our course and speed were calculated to avoid the traveling star and land in a green patch or landscape slice.
We cross the atmosphere. After the heat is dissipated, we cool once again. The local temperature reads six standard degrees, approximately sixteen Celsius. Same temperature as the planets in A-001.
“Readings?”
“No activity detected.”
We land softly. Even though the twenty mechs are armed to the teeth, the purpose isn’t aggression.
I can feel the grass beneath the soles of the mech. So soft. I hadn’t felt soft grass in ages. The air is cool and delicious. The sun, flying by like an angel of creation and destruction, creates dawn and dusk within minutes, to return flying by and create a dynamic dance between light and shadows. We don’t feel its gravitational tug or its heat.
We landed very close to the edge of the landscape patch for a reason. We walk up to the division. It’s precise. The grassland ends abruptly, and immediately on the other side, I see a desert with large dunes of sand. There’s no barrier, no heat signature, no portal, nothing to separate the patches of landscape. Not a grain of sand crosses over. Not a blade of grass crosses over.
I place a hand on the other side. No resistance. I can feel the heat of the desert. I place one leg on the desert, and the other on the grassland.
The other nineteen soldiers of the X-star stare at me with confusion.
“To think this barrier between patches of landscape goes on for two hundred thousand miles . . .” I say to myself. “The creators,” I say with a whisper.
We take off and fly the two hundred ninety-four miles that separates each patch. We reach the next barrier. It’s desert against arctic ice land. The next is ice land with tropical forest.
We walk through the thick of the trees. Large beasts reside here. Strange beings identical to those we saw in A-001 planets. I recognize the deer-like, two-headed beasts, the large spider-like predator, and the birds. Iris confirms the similarity.
“This forest would seem untamed to anybody who wakes up here,” says Ogre. “The bush is very thick. The trees, old and wise.”
“Old and wise? What are you now, a poet?” says Entwar jokingly. Ogre grunts at her.
We move out. We fly to the edge of the landscape.
I walk up to the edge. I’m standing at the abrupt ending of the forest. Empty space lies immediately beyond. I look down. More space.
“What’s there on the other side?” asks Ogre.
“Let’s find out,” I say.
We fly over the edge, one thousand miles thick it is, and appear on the other side of the helicoidal structure. There’s nothing but naked land.
“It’s nothing but baked earth!” says Entwar. She reaches down and touches the surface. “Hard as a rock.”
“But smooth. Smooth for its entire stretch of four seconds light,” I say. “One last edge to investigate, and we’re outta here. We’re heading to the long end of this twisted land.”
“As you command, my Alastar,” responds my X-star unit.
We fly low. The star flies past us, moving in the twisted manner of the structure, a hellish type of movement.
We reach the long edge. Much as before, infinity lies beyond. Stars, colorful nebulae, and the glimmer of the past shines, ever scintillating. To go the short edge and step on it, we walk up to the precipice, and instead of falling, the precipice becomes the new floor. Gravity is acting on all sides, pulling to the structures center.
“Empty,” says Ogre.
Too soon did he speak. The floor rumbles. The sound is of cracking rocks. It’s deafening.
“Back! Back!” I yell.
We all take a few steps back and automatically prepare for battle.
A large fault is opening like the mouth of a multi mile-long beast. A hiss of air and a whoosh of dust emerge from the large gash in the ground, and soon, we all realize it’s no fault or quake. It’s a retrievable door. A hatch. A gigantic one.
“By the Stellar Knights and the Celestial Core . . . what is this place? What is that?”
The sensors of the Torragami have detected movement. The scanner observes a small pointed structure emerging from the large gape, to soon notice that it enlarges as it emerges.
It’s a pyramid. A gigantic pyramid at least one hundred times larger than the ones we saw in A-001.
A deep moan sounds when the pyramid is completely out of its storage place, or whatever it was, and it begins to shine from the interior. A large passageway leads to the interior, and the passageway is illuminated by a blue hue.
“We’re going inside,” I order.
“Does it matter if I say I have a bad feeling about this?” says Entwar.
“No, but thanks. Ever so supportive,” I respond. “You, Entwar, and you,” I chose another eight soldiers in their Torragami, “come with me. Ogre and the rest, stay outside and secure the perimeter.”
I shoot an echoradar probe inside the structure. The infrared rays echo throughout, my sensors painting a three-dimensional map of the interior. It’s enormous, full of a labyrinth of passages. But in the middle, not far from this passageway, there’s a large room. That’s where we’re going. No signs of movement. Yet.
Now that I’m closer, I can see the walls of the pyramid and notice every inch of the wall on every side, including the floor, is engraved with a symbol. There are thousands of different symbols, and they occur in patters, which makes me wonder if it’s some sort of language. Xeno language.
“Iris, study the symbols.”
“Will initiate a linguistic study.”
We enter.
“Katanas out. Refrain from the use of firepower.”
Ten Torragami unsheathe their large katana. Light isn’t needed, as the blue hue from the structure illuminates it well. We also have the echographic map to guide us.
We enter the large room. It’s empty except for a near-the-wall structure. We approach it. The structure is as tall as the Torragami. A large cube. As I walk around it, I notice it’s not a cube. Rather . . . a seat! It’s like a throne! How large it is!
The throne is at the height of the Torragami, with armrests at the side. The arm rests aren’t as distant from the seat, suggesting maybe the xeno species have small arms in comparison to their legs.
“Cover me,” I order.
With a thought, the Torragami cockpit opens. I step out, helmet on and fully geared, and jump from the cabin of the mech to the seat. I order the Torragami to enter sentry mode. It closes the cabin hatch and begins to scan the perimeter, ever watchful.
I sit down on the throne and lay my arms on the armrests. It’s an uncomfortable chair, made of the same material as the pyramid.
Two doors open, one on each side of the room. The sound of the sliding doors over dust and forgotten times is audible.
“Danger!” yells someone.
False alarm. But there is movement. Two large figures emerge, one from each door. They shine so brightly, and their aspect appears carved out, as if they have no substance.
Entwar doesn’t wait. He attacks with his katana, the blade cutting thin space.
“They’re holograms!” he yells in frustration.
I observe in complete awe. My seating here activated the doors, and thus, the holograms? Why did a door open to allow holograms to enter? Couldn’t they just be projected? And speaking of which, where are the projectors?
The holos are large beings, or the representation thereof. They walk slowly, gracefully to the throne where I’m seated. I observe them, half in dread, half with excitement.
Their skin is all black, with many opulences like wristbands and necklaces, all which appear to be made of gold. The figures have two legs, large and skinny, two arms without muscle, and a large head with two pointed, tall ears. The head is that of a jackal, with a large and pointed snout. There’s a golden ring piercing its black nose. Its ears are decorated with earrings, golden in color. Each wear a strange hat on top of their head. A white dress covers their body down to the knees.
They approach, ever nearer, non-threatening. They reach the side of the throne and turn, facing the wall that the throne is facing, and stand there.
“They are like ghosts,” says someone.
I’m about to reprimand whoever mentioned a metaphysical creature, when suddenly, all lights go out. The katanas, previously shinning with threatening light, go out. We’re left in complete darkness.
“My Alastar, is everything all right!”
The nine mechs who followed me inside the pyramid turn on their powerful halogen light beams. But soon, even their light goes out.
“Protect the commander!” I hear my men, but soon, sound becomes a silhouette.
All sound fades away. I feel entranced as the wall I’m facing starts to melt away. Instead of a wall, I can now see a clear representation of the Universe, galaxies, and gas giants. It’s magnificent.
The image moves at will, as if controlled by some pre-programmed module, or perhaps, controlled by me. I don’t know.
The image accelerates and focuses on one galaxy. It zooms in, passing stars and gas giants. It focuses on a planetary system.
Death and gore are now visible. A terrible space battle carries on with intense luminous missiles traveling between large vessels floating in space. Large caliber laser beams tear through large ships. Blue blobs of incandescent energy catapult from one ship to another, engulfing the victim ship in a hue of destructive plasma.
A horde of motherships are attacking a planetary system. The planetary system under attack is sending reinforcements from the ground, only to be met with the terrible force that surrounds the planets.
The image zooms in. The city is burning, bombs detonating, the bodies pile up in heaps of sin and heresy. The massacre of a white blob xeno species is underway, carried out by . . .
The Tragalaf.
The tentacle-decorated heads, the mouths with blue light inside them, the blades of light. I recognize them in an instant, remembering how they advanced on us ten thousand years ago back on Terra.
What is this? Why am I seeing this massacre unfold? What’s going on?
It hits me. They were barbarians. They were conquerors, exterminators of other species to control and possess. The image confirms it. It shows me planetary system after planetary system, each ravaged and devastated by the Tragalaf force.
But the question is, are these images true? Should they be believed?
The Tragalaf empire is galactic. And soon, the image changes tempo, and a new conquest is occurring. Another force is attacking, but it’s the Tragalaf who are victims of its power. A wave of red light spreads through their galactic empire. Fire and ashes fly about as each planetary system is purged by ultra-violent waves of massively destructive heat. But there’s more to the wave. It’s not a passive form of energy, inert like the sun or a supernova. No . . . this red fire has anger . . . deep and terrible anger within . . . I can sense it . . . it’s a fury to be reckoned with.
Motherships flee the terrible onslaught. A biblical apocalypse taking everything out in a single fell swoop. Most motherships fail to flee, consumed by the angry, even vengeful, energy, while some are able to enter warp travel and run away. The image shows the Tragalaf fled to many other galaxies, each mothership loaded with enough of its people to start anew. One of such I’m shown heads towards the Milky Way.
Are these images shown to me because it was set up like so? Or somehow, am I evoking these images because it’s what I want to see? I don’t know.
Part of the mystery is solved. Inside a strange twisted planet, I come to find the answers to the long-questioned origin of the Tragalaf. But why? Who? Why would anybody or anything have a care to show me, out of all humans, the nature of the Tragalaf exodus?
I’m left with some answers, but the new information only deepens the puzzle and complicates the riddle.
And yet, there’s one element unanswered. If this image were telling the truth, then the Tragalaf were indeed fleeing a terrible force. But then when they entered the Milky Way, why did they attack Earth? They were weak, without resources, without backup. Why try your odds against a new race you barely understand?
What if the force that obliterated them was human-like? And upon seeing humans, they thought we were the same mortal enemy? Perhaps. The problem here is there are too many assumptions. I could be wrong on one or all accounts. The images could be a lie. I must tread warily. This could all be a trap.
I get the chills upon thinking Canis Mayor could be dominated by a human-like force. The Tragalaf could’ve fled their onslaught.
The image fades. I get a bad feeling inching up my spine. Tauro, he’s made contact. If he made contact with the power that purged the Tragalaf . . .
Shit . . . shit! SHIT! We must go warn Tauro! Or at least give him our support!
I return to myself. The room is no longer dark. The lights shine again.
“My Alastar Magna!” yells a soldier.
The hologram jackal beings step back into their chambers. The doors close. This seems all too perfectly coordinated. Like it was set up and programmed by somebody. This is all too strange. I knew we shouldn’t have come to this galaxy. Crusade, my ass. Now we’re deep in the gutter, and Tauro’s off killing beings that could’ve purged the Tragalaf.
I think I’m going insane. All of this is just crazy. Crazy enough to be true, I fear.
“My Alastar Magna! Are you well?” yells Entwar. “The lights went out. We lost track of your biostats. What the hell is this place! Is it possessed? Is it demonized?”
The talk of demons has increased. The belief of possessed things can only mean we’re all going down the tunnel of the unknown, something so foreign and inexplicable it calls for the tag of mysticism.
Never had I encountered this scenario before. And I fear I’m also beginning to believe we’re dealing with something from the wells of hell. Or worse. Hell? Even the mention of the mythological place were souls pay their penance is aggravating. Might as well mention the underworld. And if we’re heading into the underworld, then we might as well meet the Lord of Hell.
I must stop these intrusive thoughts.
“I am well, Entwar. Thank you for your worrying about me . . . strange things—”
An emergency call from the bridge. It’s Astrotek Magna Lucius. This can’t be good.
I answer. “Speak.”
“My Alastar Magna, it’s Tauro! He’s activated the emergency beacon! They’ve broadcasted an SOS as well!”
“When was it activated?”
“Four days light ago, my Alastar Magna!”
“Play the SOS.”
“SOS! SOS! A terrible vengeful force has descended upon us and is eating away the Novasphere Alpha! We’re in desperate need of help! Reinforcements! Anything! We’re being annihilated!”
The SOS goes on and on. It’s a message spoken by a sapien. I can tell by his tone of voice, he’s in extreme fear.
There’s no time to philosophize over what just happened, over what I just saw. I can only hope the others saw it, too, so I won’t be called an old, demented melancholic warrior.
With a thought, the Torragami grabs me and yanks me inside the cabin. Once I’m in control of the mech, within milliseconds, I ask Iris to share the SOS with the crew, the entire ship.
“Is this real?” asks Entwar as he plays the emergency message.
“As real as I am.”
“So that force that attacked the Tragalaf . . .” says Entwar.
“You heard it, too, then?”
“We all did. This is madness.”
“It is. I fear Tauro may’ve awoken the Devil. X-star, back to the Morningstar. We’re going to war. Prepare for all-out war with X-class munitions. Glad I activated rage mode,” I say. “Astrotek Magna, prepare for warp travel towards Tauro’s location.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Iris,” I say, “share all what you saw with the High Command. I want Ulnor to know everything. We may need them to send in the rest of the Legions to assist us.”
“Very well, Alastar Magna. Done. The message will take twenty-five thousand years to reach High Command.”
“What!?”
“A powerful electromagnetic field is interfering with the quantum communications.”
“Tekka Magna, deploy the anti-electromagnetic fields. Get us quantum comms back online.”
“This is Tekka Magna. The anti-electromagnetic field is deployed, sir. But the field inhibiting our quantum comms is strangely powerful!”
“Then move us out of range!”
“It has no range. I mean . . . it’s range is everywhere! I can’t find a space near enough on our scanners where the field isn’t operational and powerfully inhibitory!”
I curse to myself. This all seems too well orchestrated. Whatever the fuck is going on, I’m afraid we’ll soon find out.
“Where’s the emission coming from?” I ask the head Tekka.
“I don’t know. It just seems to be everywhere, my Alastar Magna.”
Our enemy, the cataclysm, the destroyer, may have us in his or her sights. This may mean we’re being played with. Slowly but surely dismantled.
“And the warp engine?” I ask as we travel back to the Morningstar at full speed.
“Operational. The anti-magnetic fields around the core are protecting the engine. The containment field is also at maximum power. We’re good to travel at warp speed.”
I call Tuigon, “Prepare for war. We’re going all out. Maximum power.”
“Yes, my Alastar. Against who?”
“Against whatever Tauro has awakened. Iris will debrief you. Iris, debrief the entire legion.”
“I recommend against it. A state of panic would be counterproductive.”
“Let them shit their pants. They need to know what we’re up against. Did you record what I saw on that screen or holo or whatever it was?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Share it as well.”
“Done.”
This is going to be nasty.