Prophecy of the Stars
He studied the white ball and attempted to decipher some form of terrain or a general area to begin his objective-less quest. The slow moving streaks of the clouds denied any answer as he launched himself from his ship toward the planet. Tiny streaks of heated atmosphere trailed off his legs as he plunged with the help of gravity. As he broke through the thick cloud cover, icy terrain began to reveal itself to the lone explorer. Gunthix surged power to the jets in his legs and began to control his flight as he curved his path away from a crash course with the planet to a cruise over the planet as he searched for something of interest.
Gunthix guided himself toward a nest of bent spires that gave an image of hands reaching up from below and landed within their grasp. A whirlwind of snow erupted as he landed among thousands of tiny ice spires. He began walking down a tiny road that seemed to separate all of the spires into two groups. Thick, falling snow obscured his vision and forced him to activate a hidden sensor in his helmet to allow him clear vision of his surroundings and the disturbing graveyard appearance that the spires gave.
A low laughter began to echo inside Gunthix's skull as he continued his slow march along the path. Gunthix ignored it as he began examining a spire that was closer to the path than the rest. His helmet began doing a scan and discovered that the iced spire was actually the coffin for a dead warrior. The laughter got louder as Gunthix examined an opposing spire and discovered the same grim tomb. He turned and searched for the source of the laughter, but confirmed he was alone.
A powerful gust created a large whirlwind that surrounded Gunthix and denied his view of his surroundings. The laughter reached a climax and a sinister voice ended it, “I know why you are here.”
The whirlwind ended abruptly and Gunthix stared at a ghoulish, white doppelganger of himself. He stared at it for a moment, morphed a Gatling, and raised it in preparation for anything. The imitation lowered its helmet, revealed a terrifying, toothy grin with wide empty eyes, and began laughing sinisterly. The laughing continued and the grin separated so far that the top of its skull ripped off and fell backwards. The rest of the body followed suit and a small cascade of snow followed pursuit. Gunthix melted the weapon back into his arm and watched as the snow combine into a white skeleton of a Guntherian.
“I know what you are here for,” came the shattered voice in Gunthix's head again. The mouth of the skeleton moved, but no sound came from it. The sound seemed to originate directly inside his own mind.
“What am I here for?” he asked the harbinger of fear, unsure of whether to look at the skull or search for another source of the laughter.
The skeleton spread its arms and a voice responded, “They always knew you would come.” The skull began to float away from the torso as another ring of laughter came out.
“What am I here for!” Gunthix screamed.
The body floated up to the skull, reconnected, and then floated back to the ground. Gunthix clinched his fists in anticipation and anger. “Why do you think you are here?” the voice asked as the ghost touched the snow covered ground again. He lowered his head in a sign of incomplete knowledge and crossed his arms. “Think carefully,” the voice demanded, “Why have you returned?” Gunthix looked up with the questioning stare.
“What do you mean,” he asked carefully, “I have never been here before.”
A tormented grin formed and Gunthix felt his anger growing inside. The ghost took its skull in its hand and pulled. The bones responded in forming a twisted line as the arm pulled back and struck forward like a whip down the tiny path. The bones extended as far as Gunthix could see and began to fade. “Quickly,” the disembodied voice spoke. Gunthix began to sprint as he followed the trail of a sinister ghost.
***
Princess Iris was strolling through her personal garden; inspecting and enjoying the colorful flowers that helped her forget her royal duties. She stopped to inspect her personal favorite: a flower with red and blue petals that twisted together. After smelling the rare fragrance, she felt a slight tug on her dress. She looked down to see the large number of young children: the Empire's future magistrates. She studied the small girl and marveled at her blue hair that hadn't turned silver yet.
“Princess,” begged the juvenile Belthonian, “What is the history of our people?” The princess smiled to herself. One of her few official duties that she enjoyed was the education of the future magistrates. She nodded to the child and held her hand as she guided the group to the center of the garden.
The children gathered around the small pond as their tutor sat down on the edge. Princess Iris folded her long dress over her legs to sit more comfortably as she cleared her throat. She scanned the crowd of blue and silver hair as she searched for the brave girl that asked her and gave her a small nod. “Scientists are still inconclusive as to the origin of life,” she began, “But once life had started, various life forms existed and competed for supremacy. Our ancestors were giant cave bats, blessed with the gift of flight.”
“With the slow march of time, we evolved into larger beings. We traded our gift for flight for the ability to walk, develop and use tools, and expand our dominance across all of Guntha.” She paused for a moment and revered in her race's superiority. After a few moments she remembered that she was telling a story and continued, “As we expanded, society and its eternal problems were created. The great King Guntha united the people and ruled his kingdom with grace, selflessness, and peace. Thousands of generations lived during his great reign without conflict or need until the birth of his twin daughters: Guntheria and Belthonia.”
“The twin princesses fought and argued for the affections of their father. Nobody is absolutely sure what happened, but we know that one of the daughters reaped a cataclysm that threatened their home. Having grown disgusted with their selfish ways and violence, he banished them to the twin moons; where we wait to this day for his call to allow us to come back.”
“On each moon, both societies grew and prospered with ignorance of the others. After centuries of development, each society raced to stars and discovered one another. Initially, there was utter bliss and enjoyment to know that the ancient stories were true: that we were both related and quite possibly the true heirs of the universe. Society advanced hand-in-hand as we became a single people.”
“Unfortunately, the peace was short lived as each side accused the other for the great crime that forced us into our own exile. Each people raced to create weapons of war, the first in our combined history. The idea of resolving the crime by diplomatic or peaceful means was scoffed at, feeling that the punishment must fit the crime; death. After extensive preparations, a single and great battle was fought.”
“The battle was long and eventually ground to a stalemate. Each loss was quickly returned as a gain, forcing the battling armies into waiting for the other to make a move. The move came, but not by either army.”
“A raiding fleet from the ancestors of the Grigor attacked with a power and vigor that no one could have predicted. The armies adopted a temporary and unspoken truce and battled the collective enemy back at great cost. They quickly retreated after encountering the fabled ferocity of our warriors.”
“The twin queens met and agreed that hostilities must end to save the lives of each moon. More weapons were created, ships were built, and soldiers were trained. A commandment was called for whoever gained the most honor would crown their queen as empress.”
“Our armies followed their prey back to their home-world and set siege. In a single, great battle; the armies broke their defense and began the intensive ground campaign. Both sides fought with equal fervor, but the Belthonian offense was halted temporarily and the Guntherian army attacked the enemy castle and captured the Grigor warlord.”
“At the unified coronation, the disgraced Belthonian queen attacked the Empress as she demanded that Guntherian rule would lead to oppression of the Belthonians. The Empress defeated her attempted usurper and told the dyeing queen that she would never rule
, but her daughter would.”
“Since then, we have had absolute piece within our empire. Fear became rampant that, although we were peaceful, other races in the universe would not be as benign. She commissioned the ten ancient legions to explore space, spark trade with friendly planets, and destroy those that weren't.”
“After centuries of exploring the universe and dozens of galaxies, we eventually encountered the Galactic Federation. Both sides expressed joy in discovering an equally benevolent society and trade began quickly. Unfortunately, the Federation's inner problems surfaced and they demanded a rich world on the border of each society's reach.”
“The First Legion, the Echoes of War, was chosen to defend it. The First was our greatest and all hope rested on their shoulders. We know almost nothing of the battle, but we are certain that they fought with valor, distinction, and honor. A lone ship, crippled so much that it barely moved, returned with stories of millions of soldiers and thousands of ships, outnumbering the First a hundred to one. The battle ended when the Federation deployed a weapon that turned the planet to ice, in a bid to deny our Empire access to it.”
“Great Empress Kiri sent an envoy to the Federation with a solution that would spare the universe of a tragic and long battle. She declared that our empire would cease to expand in their direction if they would cease to expand in ours. A fragile peace existed since, with little contact since that battle, for thousands of years.”
“Now,” she began to end with a sigh, “Our great military is preparing to attack the Federation in a bid for a preemptive strike.” She looked across the low crowd and marveled at the starry eyes of the young children, believing everything without question.
A lone hand emerged from the crowd, “Princess,” sounded the voice of a young Guntherian, “Will we defeat them?”
“The will of our empress,” she answered calmly as she selected her words, “Is absolute.”
***
Gunthix followed the ghostly mist into a low valley filled with grim headstones of ice. The wraith waited calmly in the center of the path. “Do you remember?” asked the revenant as it raised its arms toward the sky.
Gunthix clenched his fists as he answered, “What am I to remember?”
Sinister laughing erupted in his skull as the skeleton lowered its arms. “You remember,” the laughing continued, “You remember.”
Gunthix lost control, morphed both Gatling-guns, and performed a brief sweep across the valley as he fired. The skeleton remained still and complete as the spires of ice exploded and tumbled into the snow.
“That's right,” the voice responded, “You do remember.”
A bright light erupted from the eye sockets of the skull and blinded Gunthix. He fell to his knees as he attempted to block the light from his eyes and began to feel as though he was drowning. Clawing at his throat, Gunthix succumbed to the emotion as the white was covered with black.
XXVI
The black began to develop a bright, orange ball. The ball flared as it began to move up and raced toward tiny, white dots. Gunthix studied the ball and marveled at the familiar constellations as a red trail followed the ball toward the stars. The ball split into two, diverging away into different paths, and a sense of calm flooded him. He closed his eyes and smiled.
Gunthix opened his eyes and witnessed the ghost tilt its pale skull toward him. “What are you?” he asked.
A low laugh developed and then a response filled his head, “You are asking a question without an answer.” He looked down to discover he was still on his knees and stood up. Thinking for a moment, he asked again, “Why are you here?” Another low laugh responded.
The wraith stared at the sky for a moment before answering, “I follow death. It calms me.” Gunthix rose from his knees and approached one of the destroyed spires. “You do remember,” the sinister voice spoke again. The examined spire crumbled from a small gust of wind and a large bone stuck out.
“My people fought for this rock,” Gunthix mused, “A long time ago. Our warriors fought hard, but were defeated by this.” He pressed an undamaged spire and forced it to collapse.
“You fought with valor,” the voice in his head commended him. Gunthix turned to see the ghost, but it was nowhere to be seen. He turned back to look at the spire he had destroyed and spotted the skeleton floating among the frozen graves toward a slight larger spire.
“This battle was centuries ago,” denied Gunthix as he followed the phantom, “I only know of this battle through the proud history of our people.”
The ghost merged with the larger ice spire and spoke again, “You were here. In each and every one, you were here.”
“Quit saying I was here,” Gunthix screamed into his helmet, unsure if it was broadcast into the snow. The low laughing continued as a response. Gunthix morphed a Gatling-gun, took up a prepared stance, and let loose a powerful volley of fire toward the ghost. The stream of silver struck the giant spire for a moment as it chipped away the ice, then several smaller streaks of silver began to disperse from the target, forcing him to stop his destruction. The laughing was ended and a voice of silence filled the void. A shimmer of dark reflection revealed itself from the remains of ice and garnered the attention of the angry Gunthix.
“You remember,” the cool voice repeated again, “You remember why you were here.” Gunthix approached the dark shimmer of the broken grave, searching for what was the source. “You remember!” the voice bellowed.
He reached into the shell of ice as he mused, “I remember Guntheria. I remember the balls of light.” Making contact with something strong and cold, Gunthix withdrew a dark piece of serrated metal adorned with jewels; an ancient Guntherian Legion blade.
A terrible emotion filled Gunthix as he studied the amazing weapon. “Why am I here?” Gunthix pleaded with the ghost as it danced among the spires of ice.
“You came here to remember,” the voice laughed. He lifted the weapon and studied it. It was still sharp, but the plasma feeder had died out centuries ago.
“What am I to remember?” he asked again as he studied the deep blue and red jewels in the hilt.
“You are to remember,” the voice changed from laughing to serious, “Why you must go home.”
“Why must I go home?” responded Gunthix.
“You know why.”
“If I go home, I will be killed.”
A powerful echo of laughter filled the mind of Gunthix. “What will happen if you never return,” the voice asked. Gunthix contemplated for a moment as memories of Scientist Cylos flooded his sight, forcing him into a calmed state. He suddenly understood the total cost of an aggressive Empire and the impeding backlash of the Federation. The beautiful balls of flame haunted his mind, taunting him with their meaning and origin.
“Should I go home?” he asked the ghost, terrified of the answer.
Gunthix was amazed that laughter did not respond, but cold silence. He looked away from the weapon to the ghost. “Should I face my treason?” he began to beg for an answer. The wraith continued to walk blissfully among the spires of ice. “Why should I go home?” he asked without opening his mouth.
“Should a father abandon his children,” the voice asked, “When they need his guidance?”
“Are you implying that I am the father of these warriors?” Gunthix asked as he motioned to the surrounding graves of ice.
The skeleton shook its head slowly before answering, “No. The entire race of these warriors.”
Gunthix fell to his knees. He felt sick. The black flooded his vision again.
***
Bishop and King entered the shuttle hanger, hoping to see Biggs exiting a shuttle with a powerful reason for her tardiness, and stared outside the phase-shield to an immense sight. The massive hull of a giant ship filled the normally empty view to space. “What is that?” asked King after Bishop asked herself the same thing.
“I'm not sure,” she responded, “but I'll find out.”
The duo stepped forward to the busy foreman and Bishop gained his attention with her powerful eyes. “What is that?” she questioned the Terran.
He rubbed his forehead as he continued to stare at his data-pad before answering, “That is a super-freighter. The magistrate ordered all local space traffic to halt until we unload the pilgrims.”
“It's massive,” she remarked.
“Yeah, it's huge. If you could flatten Theta into a cube, you could fit it and all three moons in its cargo hold.”
“That's massive.”
“Yes. It's a marvel of design. Only seven others were built,” the foreman marveled at the design. Bishop began thinking of a ship that large and began to consider how many battleships she could fit within its massive belly. “It makes a trip from Trinity to here, every other year,” he continued, “The Neo-Novix drive is a genius space engine. Expensive, but genius.”
“How many capital ships can the Federation move with it?” King asked. The Terran shook his head.
“What?” asked King.
“That won't happen,” He responded, “The super-freighters are strictly civilian. Even pirates don't attack them. A single super-freighter can carry almost a billion innocent lives. That is something the average pirate simply can live with.”