Genesis - the Battle Within (Pillars of Creation Book 1) (22 page)

His fists crashed into the floor as he felt the pain fire down and through his entire body, exploding in a physical Rieft blast. Genesis reeled back from the explosion, twisting away from the floor; his suit flashing with red lightning as it burned all over him. Again he screamed in agony and anger. In a voice he didn’t even recognise, He bellowed through the pain in torment.

“For Sacred sake Me’lina, Master, anybody … please help me!” Nobody answered. Genesis fell to his knees in defeat; he knew he was being destroyed by this pain. But like a Roach from the slums of his childhood no one was there to help him and no one cared, he was completely alone.

Genesis looked down at his hands in dismay. They were now pouring out the thick mist, and even this he could barely see as his eyes seemed to have begun reciprocating the effect as well. Through the pain and torment, and with a sudden hiss of audio static, his link with Me’lina opened and he could hear her as though she was distantly calling to him. His eyes struggled to focus and he tried to listen, but couldn’t quite make her out. With a definitive release of breath, he promptly fell onto his back and twitched convulsively.

Genesis felt the final all-consuming wave crest; he knew this was where the pain was heading. This power was omnipotent, it felt like he was at the centre of its mass, it threatened to tear him open leaving him nothing but a smouldering carcass. Genesis felt it rise as his consciousness flickered, the pain growing more intense all the while. With sheer determination he flipped over onto his hands and knees, trying to die with some dignity. Lightning arced from his body and danced all over the floor as deep gouges etched through the metal and the energy instantly turned the nano-steel to liquid on contact. The lights blinked and went off, and the glow of the wriggling energy lit the room, lighting up his twisting form.

He screamed once more as he felt the final wave heave and break, the power surging through him, free to wreak its carnage. Whatever it was or intended to do to him, he was at the very epicentre of its aggregation; what the Tel’nagara had planned was coming to fruition. This was his end—

Genesis was thrown back violently as the first shockwave tore free from him, sending him bouncing off the far wall and lightning blazing angrily as he rolled over and over. He tried to catch his feet but got no purchase as he was tossed through the room at the whim of the dynamic energy.

After many more seconds he finally managed to magnetise a boot to one of the stray surfaces, his mind still trying to comprehend what was happening and to protect himself.
Am I a bomb about to explode? Am I a virus?
“What’s the point of destroying an already weak Immortal?” Genesis screamed aloud. He pounded his fists into the ground again as he cried into the darkened room, “What have you done to me Abad’don—”

His cry cut short in his throat and he gasped as the pain finally exploded outwards with its entire force. Strangely, miraculously and beyond his understanding, instead of throwing itself out from his body, it changed trajectory and headed straight back towards his innermost organs. With a shock his eyes and mouth burst open as light flooded out from him. Something completely foreign and unintended for humans, he knew, was happening. He felt his very life-force changing, as though right down to his DNA something was bonding itself to him.

He was pushed into the air as the energy lifted him high above the floor with the lightning acting as his legs, affixing him into place but ever changing. But no longer could he feel the agony as before, and he distantly knew the reason was because he was far beyond human capacity for pain; every nerve had shut down and gone numb, his body no longer registered what was happening to it.

Jolting him from this serenity, the lightning cracked back towards him, snaking across the floor and writhing over his body until it evaporated into his eyes and mouth. Genesis perceived the room was lit more brightly than any man-made light could mimic, but this time it was not from the lightning, it was from him – he was emanating radiance in bursts of light incomprehensible to his limited dimensions.

And then with a last bellowing exultation, he collapsed onto the floor, slamming hard, flat on his back. The light and feeling disappeared, and Genesis blinked, dumbfounded as darkness flowed back into the room.

What the hell just happened to me?
He asked in a stupor.

It was then, absurdly at this point, Genesis realised there was no response. Since the injection, he hadn’t heard a word from his second personality; his religion’s caretaker was absent!

Osiris pulled down his safety harness and went over the last pre-flight checks before lift-off. Gloomily quiet in the co-pilot’s chair, Justice did the same.

The shuttle had been intended for a tour group on a day visit to the moon mining facility, but Osiris commandeered it to get to the nearby SINAI facility on time for the Elder’s council, which was to take place the second they arrived. Justice, already complaining of running late, was annoyed with the inconvenience of using the lesser quality, slower tour vessel, but without it they would miss the council altogether.
This lesson is another valuable one for Justice
, Osiris thought bemused,
we don’t always get our own way.

Osiris abandoned his thoughts as A-flight, an older model AI attributed to such Class C shuttles, chirped into activity.

“Welcome brother Osiris and Justice, all pre-flight checks have been acknowledged, t-minus ten seconds for dust off, ETA to Pavises 103 minutes and counting, all systems are go for launch, exit vector is 3/214 with full Priority 1 clearance. All systems and commodities are set to your previous comfort settings, please enjoy your flight and don’t hesitate to ask if you need any further assistance.”

The comm clicked off and Osiris felt the reverberation as the engines flared to life. He watched as the ion-repulses threw up quad clouds of dust past his viewport and the engines pushed, with a slight hint of struggle against gravity, shunting their bulky craft skywards. Eventually, after many strange noises, they moved through the hangar’s ceiling.

The old Historian watched a little nervously as their craft picked up speed, making it through the gap with only the slightest margin for error as they departed. He glanced down to see the minuscule disciples filing out from the building where only thirty minutes earlier he’d been lecturing them.

The shuttle ascended vertically for seventy metres with fairly impressive speed for such an old craft and, changing its trajectory slightly, continued lifting without too much struggle. To their left the chantry’s main spire loomed over them with its massive cylindrical dome stretching far above most other buildings in the area as befitted to its importance in the SED infrastructure. The entire district was labelled the Chantry District due to this predominant feature.

Osiris gazed past the chantry’s spires and smiled at the glorious view. He watched with awe at what looked like a million flares burning as Earth’s infinite amount of nano-steel and nano-tanium structures, crafts and flexi glass glinted in the mid-morning sun, basked in an orange glow as the light streaked through the wispy cloud that was hanging serenely above the endless cityscape horizon.

The sight was peaceful and beautiful, giving him a sense of calm and perspective. This was not unlike the view from the balcony on the chantry’s upper apex where he often meditated; a fantastic backdrop for contemplating the directions for his people’s future, like today.

His forehead wrinkled and he stopped smiling as he thought about what Justice had told him.

He could feel darker times were upon them.
Could our time of building such a vast empire simply be the calm before a monumental storm … a storm I’d been warned of, and ignored? Could the Fate of Fates now be at our gate, as Zeal had prophesied years ago?

Osiris shifted, aggravated, in his harness, loosening the straps as he felt physically and mentally constricted by his thoughts.

Osiris was the most gifted of the users of foresight but he wished today, more than anything, that this gift was no longer with him. An evil was approaching, he had sensed its coming years ago, and from fear or stupidity he’d ignored it for too long – it would not take care of itself, their time for rest was up.

His memory never ceased to remind him that he’d been warned of this day by his less talented brother.
But I, just as Zeal had been, am powerless to do anything to stop it, am I not?

Osiris shook his head and tried to change subject, pushing the dark thoughts from his mind. He distracted his thinking by watching the myriad crafts flying in all directions around them, like bees in a hive. Each was bound to their programmed sky lanes, and further bound to their various tasks; this way and that they manoeuvred with droids of all shapes and sizes shooting in and around them. They buzzed around the ships and buildings as they diligently performed their maintenance and protocol routines.

Some were working on buildings, cleaning windows, constructing new ships in the shipyards. Some were bound to menial tasks, such as navigating the incinerators of waste disposal or carrying out on-board ship repairs and cleaning. Osiris let the chaos of it all draw patterns in his mind, his thoughts calming and slowly melting away as he lost over to the interwoven tapestry of nothing.

Transport ships, mining convoys, military frigates and corvettes, local SED militia, nano-corps, hospital crafts, faction dignitary shuttles, recreational and standard vehicles – some being worked on, others being pulsar lifted back out to space – indeed the chaos boggled most minds when trying to fathom the vastness of human endeavour … but he saw it all and understood on levels that not even the brightest of their minds could understand. And yet he knew that this was not just a gift, it was also his curse, it was why he often needed distractions to calm his ever calculating and changing thoughts and atonements his kind needed to give counsel on.

His mind was so sharp though, his intellect so superior, that even complex issues and distractions like the ones in front of him were never enough, or lasted long enough. His mind, for as far back as he could remember, was never at peace, not truly, and just like the civilization he now gazed upon …
was true peace and security ever in their grasp?

The shuttle manoeuvred through many of the sky-platforms that housed slums and the less fortunate. His focus locked onto them, distracting him further from what truly troubled him,
and yet even in our vastness and beauty we still have what we wish we could hide,
Osiris sighed, as his mind processed what he saw.

He looked down on the dirty streets; the shacks and shanties were run down and looked worse than he remembered. A gang of kids wielding weapons chased rival gang members as they fought over some trivial matter. Osiris looked away, shaking his head in dismay,
is this what our civilisation will one day, again, be reduced to?

Despite these issues, his mind kept wandering back to what he was hiding from and what his young apprentice had told him – forcing his thoughts back to the last time the portal had been active, over seventy years earlier. He remembered this time, his most painful memory, almost photographically.

He had been there that tragic day, when over ten billion people had been lost in the Cen’Shur’a sector, with their brethren Immortals claimed along with them. Many had been his colleagues and friends,
and what of them? Nobody knew.
All that
was
known was that the portal had been the cause of much conflict during the end of the Holy Wars and was responsible for the severance of their beloved Kna’an, and her scattered – colonised – surrounding planets, which had sparked the insurrection of many guilds and the fracture of peace between the Skinks’ deranged splinter cells.

Indeed, he knew and remembered this treachery well, far beyond what he could have hoped to convey in his sermon. He’d been in this final
true
Battle of the Holy Wars, and the slaughter that was fought at the portal’s entrance was catastrophic. The last bloody stand of the Seekers of Truth and the betrayal of his own brother – Divine Wielder,
Sovereign Zeal
. Osiris clasped his hands tightly in front of him, as the painful memory intruded.

Because of Zeal’s delusions, the scrap that should have seen the end to the Skinks and the slaughter of its right-wing militants, had instead lasted over three years with so, so many casualties, and still to this day, no true end.

Curse Zeal’s insolence
…
if only he’d listened and not been so stubborn.
Osiris struggled to hold in his contempt, and eventually his thoughts turned to the current, albeit linked, events that Justice had unwittingly mentioned.

And now this
,
another portal, and another Sacred facility, what will it all mean?

Osiris knew that there were four Sacred facilities to find and follow to their divine destiny, but where this portal would lead truly troubled him.
What will it precipitate? And what will come from it?
So many questions, and yet still he needed to wait, just like all of his faith, for the Elders’ decision. Like he and Justice, all were eagerly anticipating the direction that would be divulged by their beloved overseer, the mighty SINAI.

Osiris let his fears come to rest, his leaders’ inspiration bringing him slight comfort.
The SINAI would know what to make of it all. This he would have to trust. It would guide them through the dark just as he’d always foreseen, and unlike his brother, whose faith had dried up long ago, he would not abandon their ways.

No
,
I
–
Osiris the Historian from old – am invested deeply within their deity and the High Creator, and will trust in them to the very end.
The SINAI would be their saviour no matter what darkness was coming for them. The weak of faith, just as happened to Zeal, would eventually be nothing more than a footnote in the time remembered as the new, dark ages.

Unfortunately for them, those infidels would pay for their lack of faith, only the holy vassals of their High Creator would be selected to stay by his side for ascension and leave this petty struggle behind. A tale that would be sung in sadness he’d no doubt.
Without faith there’s no hope for the true fate and way of enlightenment; the infidels and heretics will know this soon enough,
Osiris smiled.

Yet still, he felt uncommonly impatient and nervous. He could feel something untoward in these latest events; somehow he was being kept off the scent of exactly what these feelings and events were. Although believing deliverance soon would find a way to them, he knew to be cautious. Perils always lurked and had a way to lure them away from their faith and true leader.
Curious,
he thought, wondering about the blockage he seemed to be having on these darker feelings …

Osiris sat back in the cockpit stroking his chin. He began drawing upon his Rieft, desperately pursuing the feeling and trying to glean some kind of insight into what it was that troubled him, at least to gain some small amount of rest from his internal conflicts. Just like his mind, his foresight was unequivocally keen; if he couldn’t find the source of the unrest then nobody could.

Normally upon meditation he could sense events many months and sometimes even years into the future. But as he’d felt before, there was something blocking him in these new occurrences; something was not right about these recent developments and he was missing something, something close, menacing. He felt in his very bones a chill, like death, was upon this new portal, it was not a natural occurrence, these entire events he felt were
damned
. For troubling reasons there were no pre-cursor indicators of these latest developments, which meant they were being
helped
along
;
there was almost a purposeful shroud around the entire portal, he could see little to nothing, almost as though he’d been internally blinded by something, or someone. This last thought disturbed him more greatly—

Another craft screeched past, startling him. His eyes darted towards the ship, which clearly showed its age with its loud irregular engine noise that drove Osiris fully out of his meditation. He had to blink more than once to orientate himself to where he actually was. His eyes eventually settled as he watched the world around him again.

Their craft accelerated around the older craft and they joined the hundreds of other ships in Earth’s exit lanes. Their speed was hindered as the long lines of pilgrimage forced them to decrease velocity, pushing both Immortals hard into their harnesses.

Justice punched the appropriate authority codes angrily into the forward console, muttering about having to do such menial tasks.

Seconds later they were away again, leaving the other ships behind – even a local police militia in pursuit mode having to give them right of passage.

Osiris, trusting Justice to take control, started to watch the young Wielder next to him. Their flight was mostly automated, with only minor routine checks needing to be done by pilots. Seconds later he felt himself being pushed once again into his chair, the rear engines thrusting them towards orbit. He went back to trying to distract himself, dwelling on the sights and busying himself with the few controls he needed to assist Justice with.

He just couldn’t let it go, being a Historian this was something he often had to deal with. But more than ever he hungered for more information on the portal and its latest developments. He couldn’t seem to keep it far from mind at all, these new disturbing feelings were tied in with many other events which he could almost certainly tell were unfolding and travelling fast towards them.

Many minutes later and after much contemplation on this exact matter – coming up frustrated and blank – Osiris, in a last ditch effort, pushed conversation with his pupil. Justice seemed to be the only avenue, for now, for gleaning any
new insight. He kept his voice nonchalant as if he wasn’t in any inner turmoil, although Justice knew him well enough to know his quirks.