"WARNING: airlocks disengaging! WARNING: airlocks disengaging! WARNING!" The launch bay's computer system announced in a computerized female voice. Red lights flashed in indication of the imminent launch sequences.
Sayla Song pulled herself into the ship's cockpit and strapped in, upon which the ship's computer immediately sealed it. She started the oxygen flow to her suit and helmet, and began the last launch preps. She had done this dozens of times before, and her hands sped like lightning to the many touchscreens in the cockpit. The sounds from the launch bay continued to filter in. A lizard-like mech bot made a quick last minute inspection while she was prepping.
"Bravo ready for disengagement," the voice of another squadronmate crackled over the comm. A steady chorus followed.
"Nova ready for disengagement," she said.
The squadron leader was the last to speak. "Ready for disengagement in 10, 9, 8, 7…"
The ship sunk into the floor of the main bay, which promptly resealed to create a small airlock. "6, 5, 4," She held the controls and braced. "3, 2, 1."
The floor of the airlock opened up, and for a few seconds all was quiet save for the muffled engines. The green and brown surface of Gaios curved above her, patched with the occasional blue sea. For a moment, she got to recall the peace she always felt in space before she, like millions of others, was drafted into the war.
"Prepare to go atmospheric," squadron commander said over the comm.
The battle, like most, was brutal. The enemy had commandeered several extremely powerful ground lasers. She went down when the weapon decimated her antigrav generator. The back of the ship smoked and burned as it fell away from the battle. When a small town came into view she ejected and parachuted down. She landed about a mile away and noticed that it was burning. Plumes of smoke were rising from the houses and buildings as the tongues of fire licked their wooden sides. In the middle of the main street a convey was strewn about. Hovertanks were grounded, overturned, and blown to bits.
"Hello! Anyone? Anyone?!" she called out in an attempt to find if anyone was still alive.
No one answered back. She found several bodies around, obviously the work of the shadowfox militia, but not a single living person. At least until she reached the opposite edge of the town. She saw a soldier with a mauve medic armband slumped against a boulder, bleeding from his shoulder and his leg, and he was barely conscious.
She rushed towards him and crouched next to him. "Hey, hey stay with me ok? I'm gonna get you out of you out of here, ok?"
"I…I didn't mean…for this to happen," he whispered. "None of this…was supposed…to happen."
"No one did, it's gonna be ok." She noticed a radio laying on the ground near him.
"Air-base 54 this is Corporal Song of the Scyther squadron do you read me?"
"This is Airbase 54, copy."
"Requesting extraction for myself and a seriously injured soldier. We need a medevac pronto."
"Transmit your location and we'll have one out there pronto."
"They're coming. You'll be ok…Lee," she read his tag on his uniform
The dream began the same way it always did with Daniel was walking along a beach of some long dead isle, the abandoned wooden houses standing like lone sentinels on the shoreline. Palm trees stretched into the sky. The air was permeated with the taste of salt and sun. Further down the beach he heard the sound of children laughing, but as he moved closer they vanished. He followed a path through the undergrowth to a large wooden house.
"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone there?" Nothing.
He climbed the steps to the front door and knocked. Again, nothing. He entered into a living room with a picture of a family of four over the mantel of a fireplace, including myself when I was mortal. They were dressed so strangely. Suddenly a wave a fear rushed over him. He turned around and saw IT again. The strange thing that haunted his dreams and robbed him of sleep.
"Y-You again. Why are you following me?" he pulled out his gun, shaking. "Why are you haunting me? Why are you taking away my sleep? What are you?" He pulled out his pistol and tried to shoot it, but the bullets would not fire. So he ran down the hallway towards the bedrooms. One of them had a heavy metal door marked by a radiation symbol.
Daniel rushed into the room and slammed the heavy metal door behind him. A central pillar of light was pulsating rapidly in the center of the room. Computers lined the circular walls with their alarms screaming. Chairs and papers were strewn about wildly. The blasts of heat from the pillar of light were becoming more and more intense. Sweat began to bead above his brow. He tried to reopen the door.
"Please!" he cried. "Please let me out!" But it was to no avail. The heat became worse and worse, until everything in the room caught fire, including himself.
Suddenly Daniel gasped for breath and sat up. He was in his room, by himself. There was no pillar of light, no unbearable heat, nothing chasing him. "Just another nightmare." He stood up and stretched, and whipped the sweat from his brow. There was no way he was going back to sleep after that.
He was going to go into the living room to watch tv, but then he remembered the boxes of junk that they had brought to his apartment. He went into the office and started sifting through them. And so he saw the piece of cracked black leather again. He pulled the book out from underneath all the junk around it. He carried the book over to his desk and turned on the light. The pages were filled with doodles and notes, with a hodgepodge of receipts, napkins, and business cards stuck in between.
He turned to a page with a receipt hanging out. "The Water Dragon. 2 kilos of sucra root. 7.91 phoens." He looked closer at the scrawled black ink on the page. "The fishmarket. Leline 21st. Magic."
The fishmarket, which sold much more than just fish, was the largest outdoor market in the entire city. People would come in everything from spaceships to motorboats and attempt to sell everything from expensive jewelry and ancient artifacts to cheap flipflops and bootlegged purses. He checked the fishmarket website and sure enough there was a boat named The Water Dragon registered. The last day it would be in town was tomorrow.
"3:25am. On a case night. Marjorie might still be up."
And sure enough, Marjorie was still awake. She was testing rock samples from the blast site for their physical and chemical properties. Scientific equipment was strewn across her living room, with bubbling chemicals and strange smells. She did this all while attempting to discover the password for sandfish when she received the call from Daniel.
"Hey, I found something. Luke was keeping a journal of some kind. It logged a lot of what he was doing at the time."
"Great, that's a wonderful clue!" she exclaimed.
"Now listen to this: he talked to someone a few weeks before his death at the Fishmarket. The same boat is docked there up until tomorrow. If we go, we can still catch them."
"Sounds like a plan. Meet in the morning and head there before going to find the beach he died at?"
"Yeah."
"See you then."
Marjorie turned back to the computer after hanging up while waiting for the latest reaction to take place. The latest try at the password was to no avail. The screen read: "9 more tries. Hint: the truth at the heart of the matter."
"What could this mean?" she asked. "What truth? Which matter?"
Mass chaos. Those are the two words that aptly describe the Fishmarket. It was a series of interconnected canals, docks, bridges, and streets, all squeezed together by the water the permeated the land. Boats, spaceships, food trucks, and hovercars were jam packed together.
The sounds of artisan shops, the whirring of mechanical gadgets, the blasts of engines, the hoots and hollers of animals from across the galaxy, the tongues of many languages, and strange melodies from beyond the planet all blended together in an incoherent cacophony. The heat of the sun Numai and the oppressive humidity were brutal.
The Ri had a saying that everything in the universe came to Alanaka at some point or another and found itself in the middle of the Fishmarket. In a way they were right. Traders brought luxuries from the far edges of the galaxy, from coffee and chocolate from Earth to iridescent glassware from the star system of Uratha and jewelry made from various metals.
Our private detectives walked past the different stalls on the way to the Water Dragon. Strange lemur-like creatures flew between the roofs and chattered away, swooping down to snatch food from fruit stands and the hands of bystanders, like the pigeons of Earth. One stall had various brains and creatures floating in jars, another had plants from across the galaxy.
Marjorie stopped at one for a moment. This one had various blue linens with designs of the moon and furs on the ground, characteristic of the Antarctican culture. Various pieces of art with shades of blue and purple hung on the walls. But what stood out to her was a sculpture sitting on a wooden shelf: a broken circle made out of the bone of a whale-like creature.
"What is this?" she asked the blue-eyed cashier.
"It's the broken circle. It's an important symbol of our culture. It symbolizes the loss of hope. It became popular right before the cataclysm."
"Thank you," she said.
They continued on their way, eventually reaching the boat. It was old, made from wood and powered by sails. Marjorie estimated it at 35 feet long. There was a stall in front of it with various fruits and vegetables from the Slakani River Valley.
"How can I interest you folks today?" A middle aged man said from the shade. He was wearing a white T-shirt, khaki shorts, sunglasses, and sandals. Streaks of gray ran through his hair and beard.
"We're looking for the owner of the Water Dragon," Daniel said.
"Well, you found me," he smiled. "Ire Vaska'i. How can I help you?"
"We're private investigators working on a case, and we think you might have some information we could use."
"What kind of information?"
"We were hoping you could tell us. Do you remember talking to a Luke Young?"
"The name sounds familiar. Who was he? Why didn't he come himself?"
"Because he's dead." Marjorie said. "And we want to figure out why."
"You won't believe me," Vaska'i said.
"Try us."
"Come into the boat."
They followed him beneath deck to a lit room with some chairs surrounding a plastic table. "Would you like some tea or water?"
"Tea would be good," Marjorie said.
"Water, please," said Daniel. He was not a fan of tea.
"So before we get started, how do I know you're not Sector 6 operatives?"
"Because Sector 6 is an urban legend that's been around for ages," Daniel said bluntly.
"Assuming Sector 6 actually did exist, and the government did investigate the paranormal and magic, which is highly improbable, there is no way for you to truly tell," Marjorie said.
"I knew you two wouldn't believe me," he said bitterly.
"Maybe we won't, but Luke believed you. And that's what matters to us. We want to know what he was thinking when he died."
"Fine. I will tell you what I told Luke. But be warned that you are about to go down a rabbit hole from which you will never return."
"We've been down plenty of rabbit holes and have returned just fine from them," Daniel said.
"You say that now, but just you wait. Now, do you know of the legends of old?"
"The stories of empires and magic before the Cataclysm? The stories that claim Py'ri caused it?"
"Yes. See, my people, the Numai'ri, we remember the olden times before the cataclysm. We have preserved the legends in our stories. We remember when there were powers beyond comprehension governing the world, when the very rules of nature were written differently. We remember being conquered by your people, the Py'ri, and the subsequent wars you raged across the planet. And then there was the last war, the Global War, which ravaged the world for over a century. But this one was different. A Lord of Time gave you something of unimaginable power that wrought devastation across the world. Then the ethereal spirits or the gods, depending on who you ask, became angry and tried to destroy Rikind after you killed one of their own. And so the world was nearly destroyed and the powers-that-were left for good."
"So that's what you told Luke?"
"Yeah."
"Have you told this to other people?" Marjorie asked.
"A few."
"And what happened to them?"
"They disappeared. Sector 6 I tell you."
"Right…Sector 6, the magic hunters took them away after they found out about the 'true nature' of the global war and the cataclysm," Daniel said sarcastically.
"You don't believe me."
"No, I don't."
"Well, I won't waste your time any longer."
"Wait just a moment!" Marjorie said, irritated at the both of them. "Did Luke mention anything about anyone chasing him?"
"He seemed really nervous about someone finding him. I assume Sector 6. Now get off my boat!"
And so our detectives departed. As soon as they were out of earshot, Marjorie hissed at Daniel, "What the hell was that?"
"That guy was bats! Sector 6 is just some stupid urban legend and those myths he was talking about were just stories that every Ri hears as a kid. Nobody believes it."
"That guy was potentially a good source of information. Yes, he was a little bit out there with bizarre theories, but those are bizarre theories that Luke may have believed. But now we don't know if he believed them or not."
"It probably would have led us down the wrong path anyways."
"You don't know that. Now how much sleep did you get last night?"
"Too little."
"That's what I thought."
"Marjorie," he paused. "I'm sorry."
She softened and gingerly placed her hand on his shoulder. "So am I. I haven't exactly been the nicest friend in the world."
He gently placed a hand on the crease of her elbow. "Yeah you've been kinda a jerk," he laughed. "But so have I."
They pulled apart. She said, "Let's go to the beach,"
The Eela'i beach was located on the Southern Peninsula overlooking the ocean. The warm clear waves crashed and gurgled upon the white sand and the gray concrete pillars that held up the MagStar train bridge that extended on into the horizon towards the island Saranaka. It was still morning so the beach wasn't as crowded as it was during the afternoon, and people were hiding in their houses out of fear of the bombs.
"Well, here it is," Daniel said. "The pier where he died."
"Yep." Marjorie took out her phone. "Activate photohologram of the crime scene,"
The body appeared lounged against a pillar, covered in sand and water. But that wasn't what caught Marjorie's attention.
"So we see the broken circle again. Right above the body."
"Could that be a coincidence?" Daniel asked.
"We've seen it too many times for it not to be."
"So do you think he drew it."
"No. He doesn't have residue on him. Someone else did this. Someone who must have seen the body before it was found."
"Do you think they might have pushed him to the edge?"
"That is very possible."
"I wonder what it means. Why would they draw that above the body?"
"I must admit that even I am stumped by that."
"Well that's a first," Daniel joked.
Marjorie shot him a look. "Really Daniel? Really?"
"You left yourself open to that."
"Yeah true," she smiled. It was nice to see him happy for once, even if but for a split second.
"Hey I'm gonna head out. I'm meeting a friend. Catch up later?"
"Yeah, let's do it. Take care!"
And so they parted.
Daniel made his way to the Baron Pub. The bar was located in the Yuraka district in the north-central part of the city. The inside was brick and covered with signs from various parts of the galaxy.
"Kha'ruuk!"
"Daniel! Hey, how are you doing! It's been way too long! Come on in! Do you want a drink! I'm gonna get you a drink! How about the red stuff! I'll get you the red stuff!"
To a human, Kha'ruuk would look like a cross between a grizzly bear and a velociraptor. Iridescent scales covered his huge body. He had two pairs of arms, one with hands with retractable claws that could be used to gently handle items, and the other with hands with three 8-inch long claws. At a hulking 8 feet tall, Kha'ruuk was a small Chula. In fact, he was the least Chula to ever Chula. His good nature was simply not compatible with the war-like species' society. So after some adventures in the stars he happened to settle on the least likely planet for a Chula to settle one: Alanaka, the homeworld of the puny species that dared embarrass the proud warriors, where he opened a bar.
"Fire whiskey. Nice."
"So what brings you here?"
"I've been working this really weird case and I just need to blow off some steam."
"Blowing off steam. We all need to do that sometimes. Good thing to do. How's Marjorie?"
"She's doing fine. She's doing case stuff, which is when she's happiest. Her sister is in town."
"Oh really? From Earth?"
"Yeah."
"Beautiful planet, Earth, I really want to go back there someday."
"You've been to Earth?"
"Several times."
"I'd like to go someday. I need a vacation." He sighed and downed his drink.
"Daniel, are you sure your okay?"
"Kha, you knew me, knew my family before the accident. Did I have a lot of nightmares?"
"No more than anyone else I knew, why?"
"Ever since I got shot I've been having terrible dreams. But not dreams of the war. Other dreams, with other places. Places I have never been. I just don't understand it."
"I don't know what to say. Sometimes in an attempt to understand the past or the present our minds make things up, interpret them in a strange way."
"Yeah. Maybe it's just this case messing with my head."
"What happened?"
"Weird death. Some guy killed himself after being tortured. He was hiding something from someone who really wanted it. And our leads have been equally strange."
"How so?"
"Well, one guy we talked to today was paranoid that Sector 6 was after him,"
"Sector 6?"
"Yeah the magic hunters, supposedly."
"Huh, weird."
"Anyways, I'm going home. I'm getting a headache."
"Take care of yourself Daniel. Be safe."
"I'll try. Can't make any promises in this line of work though."
"That's what scares me."
Daniel walked down the steps and passed an alley. A hovercyclist dressed in black leather with a metallic helmet and red visor was observing him from two floors above. She took out a fading, creased sepia photograph of a young boy. "I can't believe my eyes. After all these years...I have finally found you. And I can't even say hello," she said sadly.
After Daniel left, Kha reached for the seemingly decorative old-timey phone on the wall. He dialed a certain number, and waited as it rang.
A Scottish-sounding voice answered, "Hello, go away. You really shouldn't have this number. The doctor is not available. Go away now and never call back. Bye."
"Doctor, this is Kha'ruuk. Remember that thing you told me to do awhile back? Well, we might have a bit of a problem on our hands. Please call me back ASAP."
But alas, the doctor did not call back. He never did.
Sharon Malone and her work partner, Ray Ryla, a Ri, were following up a lead in the Silent Bomber investigation which lead them to a certain David Hanto.
"David Hanto. This is it," the landlord said, pulling out a key. "I hope he's not in too much trouble."
"Unfortunately it's worse than that," said deputy detective Ray Ryla. "He's dead."
"Oh no! What happened?"
"We can't talk about it. It's an ongoing case," Deputy Malone said. "The family will take possession after we are done investigating."
The truth of the matter was that Ren ID'd the body from remains found in the trunk of the car that exploded using dental records. After he was shot he was stuffed in the trunk.
"Oh my gosh. He was such a good kid too."
"Sometimes good people get mixed up with the wrong crowd," Ray said, adjusting the brim of his hat.
"That's enough chit-chat," Malone interjected. While she admired Ray, he had a tendency to say a little too much in her opinion.
They entered the apartment and began to look around. The fruit on the counter was beginning to rot. Forensics began to search the place, taking photos of objects and samples.
Sharon's attention was drawn to a bent candlestick holder on the ground with blood surrounding it. "It appears that he was dragged out of the apartment unwillingly," she observed.
Ray was fidgeting with David's smartphone, and finally unlocked it when the code came through from his family. "Sharon, you need to listen to this."
"Is it a break in the case?" she asked, feeling the fire and the thrill of the chase.
"Maybe? But you're not going to be happy about it."
He pressed the voicemail button and a very familiar voice said, "Hello David, this is Daniel I. Lee calling back about the appointment. 7:00pm Friday night will work fine for my associate and I. Thank you, and we'll see you then." BEEP.
Sharon sighed in frustration. "Of course O'Sullivan and Lee involved in this! They may have been the last people to talk to him before his killers. We have to bring them in for questioning!"
"It appears so," Ray said.
"We have to leave, now. They've found us," the young guard hurriedly told Arzan.
"So the time has come to leave Torr. So we head deeper into the belly of the beast."
They quickly headed into the kitchen of the earthen compound they were staying in. A TV blared the news.
"BREAKING: The firestar SS Salazar has been moved from its post along the Rhaza trade route into orbit around the world Torr, citing concerns over potential terrorist activity. Authorities are urging locals to stay calm."
Terrorists. What a brutal word, Arzan thought. He much preferred freedom fighters, or revolutionaries. After all, it was he and his people who were fighting against the oppression of the long exile from their homeland. He donned a light jacket that in tandem with his jeans and boots made him look like a local. They dashed out of the small house across the dried grass of the dusty plain. Three fighter spaceships passed overhead, silhouetted against the light of two of the three moons of Torr. After an hour of walking they made it to a small cargo spaceship.
"General," A tall, thin young man saluted. "My name is Captain Thra. I will be your pilot for the next few days."
"Thank you captain. I trust that you will get us to Corba safely."
"I hope so. They're searching ships so you may need to stay in the secret compartment."
"There will be no need."
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Yes. The Phoenician empire needs us, more than it wishes to admit. Or rather, it needs us to find the key."
"The key to what, if I may ask?"
"The key to unlock the secrets of reality, the secrets of our ancestors."
