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CHAPTER 14 : (Don't Fear) The Reaper
Flashing light caught her attention as her proximity alarm went off. Activating her tactical, she recognized the Pathfinder ship almost immediately. Aeryn scowled through gritted teeth; "I do not have time for your vendetta." Reaching out she modified the frequency of the vortex. Pulling up random heading after random heading, she caused the void in front of Xhalax to split, opening several branches at the same time.
Increasing her speed to maximum, Aeryn fought against her prowler, forcing it through near impossible channels. Arcing right then left, then right, then random, at each branch she skillfully darted through the maze. As each pathway before her split, she began randomly choosing the paths, hoping to evade the pursuit vessel. Like a Durge spider, traveling one strand at a time throughout its colossal web, Xhalax darted from vortex to vortex.
"Well, " complimenting as she found it impossible to evade her shadow, "it looks like someone ate their wee-wees for breakfast." Her mind straying "Did Crichton call it 'wee-wees'? Maybe 'weenies', or maybe 'wheaties'?" Executing all frivolous thought, Aeryn regained concentration toward the task at hand.
Strategically she slowed ever so slightly, decreasing the gap between her and the alien craft. Consuming the distance, it rode closer to her, and as it became close enough, Aeryn lowered her craft to the wall of the vortex. Aeryn then dramatically slowed her speed. Gripping the side of the vortex as a guide, she spun full circle, spiraling around her prey. After regaining her bearings, Aeryn rose behind the scout ship and slowed to a near stop. Before the alien vessel could react, Aeryn created another fork and took the path opposite of her enemy's. Within three microts, Aeryn was light years away from her opponents as they hurried to some random place in the cosmos. Aeryn reset the coordinates to Omala.
Traveling quickly now, Aeryn thought of how she could have picked up the Pathfinder Scout. "Did it follow me from Earth?" she thought, and then ruled it out as she remembered there was something special with the Crichton-vortex. What was special? She remembered the Array's creation. She remembered how she and John tried in vain to live on Earth, birthplace of their son. She recalled how it became an exercise in futility and politics where everyone struggled to wield a power they admittedly never understood. She recalled how John was first testing his prototype Array, he inadvertently destroyed a Scarran planet, and then she remembered how he blamed himself when he later found a flaw in some numbers that he overlooked. As her mind wandered, Aeryn wondered if he ever recovered from the guilt, since he refuses to talk about it. Then she remembered John explaining something about how true wormholes, and even the Leviathans' Starburst, intermingled with the void of the Crichton-vortex. How they can work together, and allowed cohabitation without one that would destroy the other.
Exiting the vortex, Aeryn's thoughts shattered in her mind at seeing the horror of countless Scarran vessels massing. A small moon rested between her and the armada, and seizing the opportunity, she landed on it, activating Xhalax's camouflage. She then closed all circuits save that of the camouflage and minimum life support. Allowing herself to panic, she hitched her breath focusing on the console's proximity grid. "Was I detected? Did anyone see the vortex?" She screamed shortly as she forced regulated breathing.
Chapter 15 : Banditos
The Angel of Death erupted through its vortex. They found themselves in their home space amid a few spacecraft that lay before it. As they docked at the Luxan spaceport, D'Argo continued the freedom of his passengers, granting them the necessary authorities for healing, clothing, and rest.
Asking the dockworkers for their restocking assistance, they filled D'Argo's Angel with ammunition and supplies. He turned his attention to his wife, and asked her for a private moment during a walk.
Deep within a maze of stock crates, D'Argo stopped to face Jool. "Ah," he stammered, "I would like you to stay here."
Jool smiled as she sweetly kissed the mighty warrior on his cheek and replied, "I would like you to go frell yourself."
D'Argo feeling his anger growing added, "Jool, I really cannot bare the thought of you getting hurt."
Jool retorted, "So do not think about it."
D'Argo continued, "Please listen.... I do not know what I would do... if you would... get hurt."
Jool, suppressing her frustration, continued, "Well that makes two of us."
D'Argo shook his head as his voice slightly became louder, "I want you to stay here, I do not expect to make it back."
Jool's voice matched his pitch as she explained, and "Then I guess I will not be making it back either."
D'Argo bellowed, "Jool, I do not want you to die."
Drawing ever closer to his face, Jool shouted, "Look dren-head! If you go off on some heroic crusade and get shot up so bad you are wearing your Emma for a hat, then I WILL be right THERE with YOU and YOU CANNOT STOP ME!"
Shaking violently, D'Argo began swallowing his rage. He stomped away increasing distance between himself and Jool. As he turned, Jool recognized the tears in his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he sneered, "Why are fighting me?"
Jool paused and took a deep breath. She choked back her heart in her throat, then exhaled as tears streamed down her face. "If you die, then I die too." She paused at she looked deep into D'Argo's caring eyes. "I do not want to live without you. You are my best and only friend."
Shocked, D'Argo calmed down as Jool wept. Feeling proud, foolish, and still angry, he walked back to Jool and looked into her eyes. "You are my best friend and you are the perfect wife. I don't want to see you destroyed for something I have to do."
Jool shook her head as she corrected her husband, "... something WE have to do."
D'Argo, wiping the tears off Jool's cheeks, informed, "This is suicide"
Jool nodded as tears burst from her eyes again, "I know. I know you, and I cannot stop you. You stupid frelling dren-head, always letting your heart think for you.... That is why I know that this is OUR suicide. But at least we can have something that would be OURS forever."
Understanding the motive, but not comprehending the logic, husband and wife embraced. Allowing a brief period to recompose themselves, they approached their ship hand in hand.
During this discussion, Jothee sat on board the Angel of Death eating fruit, and confirming all weapons and cannons were optimum. He mused at the irony that his scheduled death may prove to be to the minute. Thinking of war, he remembered how he had fought as a mercenary, how he gained the skill that made him effective.
Stretching his legs, he stepped out of Death and noticed in shock that another Angel docked. His mind reeled as he wondered how long had it been since two Angels, in all of space, shared the same spaceport at the same time. Admiring the sheer beauty of the craft, its eyes now shut, with its dark foreboding skin, filled him with awe.
Watching the craft Jothee noticed the pilot exiting. She was a trim Sebacean, long and sexy, with clothes the color of a dead Luxan's blood. The con artist within him paid close attention, as he realized no Sebacean was ever a pilot of an Angel. He noted her stature and her gate, as she walked to the dockworkers. He rated her strengths and her weaknesses, as he watched her argue with them. He measured her intelligence and her skill, as she began to lie to the dockworkers to gain free fuel, supplies, and ammunition. A sinister smile crept across his scarred face, and the fire of larceny ignited in his heart, knowing exactly the game she was playing.
Arguing now with the dockworkers and several of the local law enforcement, the pirate captain of the Angel named Hope desperately pleaded her cause. Approaching the drama, the now Captain named Jothee began his own swindle, "Who are you, and what do you think you are doing with my Angel?!"
Chapter 16 : Heavy Metal
The howling wind shrieked as it increased intensity, as the self-igniting torch flickered against the wall. Crichton, listening as the dome whined in protest against the abuse, thought of BoWeen and her hut. Stark paced frantically, moving his arms as he mumbled petition to an ambivalent universe, as Crichton pulled back Chiana's straw mat to reveal a large rectangular metal plate.
Smiling at the consistency, Crichton announced, "Hey Astro, do you want to head underground?"
Crouching at the side of the kneeling Crichton, Stark stared at the rectangular plate as he uttered, "Of course, that makes perfect sense"
Crichton laughed as he grabbed the metal plate and moved it to one side of the hut. Smiling Crichton turned his attention back to where the plate lay. In his shock, he recognized that the plate was covering nothing but sand.
"Well it was a thought," Crichton sighed as the lunatic Banik laughed.
"Oh it is the perfect idea," Stark cheered to Crichton. As Crichton rose in confusion, the mad Banik rubbed clean the walled side of the dome then returned to his kneeling position.
Crichton observed as Stark performed a series of movements equal to BoWeen's. A small metal hatch, hidden by dirt slid silently away to reveal a dark rectangular hole in the floor. Crichton crouched by the madman and asked, "What was that, an 'open sesame' prayer?"
Stark shook his head, "No, it was actually a greeting that is used between all of the Goddess' children." Giggling, Stark continued, "I witnessed similar things like this but I never put the purpose behind the actions until now."
Crichton added, "Whatever works," as he removed the torch from its purchase to gain a better view of the void. Holding the torch above the hole, Crichton looked below at what appeared to be a metal floor 4 meters down. "Well, here goes nothing," Crichton added as he began lowering himself into the gap. Slowly sliding back feet first, Crichton assessed he could simply lower the bulk of his length down and easily jump the decreased distance to the sub-floor. Lowering himself backwards, grabbing handfuls of sand for traction, Crichton began sliding uncontrollably only to fall into the darkness, landing directly on his back with a dull thud.
Holding the torch in the opening, Stark peered down at the aching Crichton. After a moment of silence, Stark called down; "John, You slipped."
Struggling to his feet, Crichton's head throbbed as he observed his surroundings. In a hallway, lit by a dull green, Crichton was able to make out shapes in a distant room that appeared to be moving. Looking up, Crichton called out, "Come on in, the water's fine," as he rubbed the back of his aching neck.
Stark set the torch to the side as he semantically chanted. After relaying the motions, a series of steps rose form the metallic floor to meet at the mouth of the upper level's opening.
Crichton, now a little perturbed added, "You could have done that earlier."
As Stark descended the stairs he shrugged, "I had no idea it would do anything."
Crichton asked, "What did you do?"
"I simply prayed as if I were taking a leap of faith." Stark said.
"Well how about praying for the lights?" Crichton goaded.
Stark paused as he thought then began a series of motions. As he concluded, the dull green light rose in brightness. Glancing over to Crichton Stark shrugged, "Clarity of vision."
Proceeding down the corridor, they entered a room with a large hologram of the planet, in which intermittently boasted of a large patches of red twinkling dots. The walls of the room were a series of glowing squares, each one having a symbol Crichton deemed as hieroglyphs for children.
Crichton marveled at the size of the room as he asked Stark, "Where do we start?"
Stark began a series of motions that had no effect. After pausing for a reaction and thinking further, Stark began a different act that caused a small humanoid hologram to appear high in the far corner of the room. The avatar floated cross-legged as it repeated the same series of motions.
Transfixed by the unrefined shape, which he named Boris, Crichton said, "Let me guess, that was the prayer for glowing space midgets."
Stark equally transfixed nodded, "It was a prayer for guidance, but it appears to be the same difference."
Crichton pondered, "So what's Boris here saying?"
Stark translated, "You are invisible to ... unfaithful? ... unknown? ... I'm not exactly sure."
Setting his mind on current matters, Crichton nodded, "Ask it how we protect ourselves."
Casting the prayer of protection, Stark witnessed a beam of light strike his chest. Following the beam to its origin, a symbol of a hand over an egg began flashing on the wall. Approaching it Stark pushed the symbol and the room reverberated with a rumble.
After the brief shock in the floor, the distant sound of grinding and slamming metal echoed through the corridor leading to the room. After 10 microts of the thundering and screeching, all fell silent. Crichton ran down the corridor, up the steps and out of the hut to witness the tranquility of the now solid dome ceiling.
Stars now glowed throughout the dome as a pseudo planetarium danced above the impressed human. The Caretakers, meandering out of their huts, stared at the spectacle that greeted them. Looking away from the Caretakers, Crichton turned his attention a back to the dome's apex as he recognized the red twinkling dots that collected in the sky. Understanding this was the internal view of the hologram below, Crichton began realizing the way of Omala. An unknown syphoning began as the sand began emptying from the floor of the fortress. The ground became softer under Crichton's feet as he ran back toward Chiana's hut.
As Crichton ran back to Stark, he found the Banik struggling with Boris, fighting desperately to fathom the meaning. As Crichton focused on Stark, he jumped with a shout as BoWeen's hand touched his shoulder. He met her eyes and understood that she was baffled at this place, knowing whatever secrets she kept this was not one of them.
Stark motioned to BoWeen and she immediately refused. At the same time Stark mentioned, "She does not want to help as she fears the wrath of the Goddess."
Crichton rolled his eyes, "Holy Culture Shock Batman!" Then Crichton thought of Gilina and recognized how that approach worked earlier. Snapping his fingers with the idea, Crichton erupted, "BoWeen, this is Goddess' machine. We can't understand it without your help." Pointing to the hologram of the planet, Crichton mentioned, "The red dots are the bad guys that will take the Goddess' machine." Then pointing to Boris, Crichton added, "This guy will tell us how to protect it." Then pointing to BoWeen Crichton said, "If you don't help us, whether we die or not, you will be responsible for this machine falling into their hands."
She briefly thought on this as she regarded Boris' actions. She motioned to the guide and he replied. With that she turned and smiled to Crichton.
As Crichton looked at the dumbfounded Stark, the shocked Banik relayed, "This is of the Goddess! The... property... the property of the Kahalan."
The horrifically scarred BoWeen sat cross-legged in front off Boris and began to speak with it. Sitting as well, as best he could, Stark began translating. BoWeen matched then altered gestures as they synchronized. Not wanting to interrupt; yet feeling pressed for time, Crichton diverted his attention away from the pantomime. He noticed more red twinklings, some larger than others were, arriving to join the mass on the hologram planet. Crichton turned his attention to his insane friend as Stark spoke.
"Keeping the gates sealed to the rising sun initiated a defense system," Stark called out to Crichton as BoWeen still kept pace with Boris. "The Sandstorm was created by a laced series of jets located throughout the planet surface. The jets are also siphoning the sand from the floor of the dome. The unique particle construction of the planet's original soil inhibits penetration by all ion scanning. There also appears to be some bizarre frequency, acting as a magnetic shell, surrounding the planet. The shell appears to be some static protection... some external covering...? It appears it will be completely ineffective concerning the Scarran's weapons... I do not understand what she is saying... Something about ... protection from her wrath? ... Safety from her power? ..."
Now understanding a little more, Crichton turned back to the hologram of he planet. As the twinkling red dots began moving erratically, Crichton activated the Com in his pocket. He began hearing more ranting, more bravado, and then Crichton heard the voice of General Kozz, informing all he would be in targeting range within half an arn. Crichton, making sure he was not speaking into the Com, called over to BoWeen's contorting shape and mentioned, "Uh, I hate to pressure you, but could you speed this up a bit?"
Stark, pausing for a brief second to glance at Crichton, began again to witness the maundering as he dryly replied, "John, I'm sure we have enough time. I trust your ability to find a solution.... OH! There are no weapons on Omala. Those that designed this place were against war. They also felt those of the Goddess should never kill each other, and that death was for the Goddess to decide."
Watching the flashing squares, blinking as BoWeen communicated, Crichton sighed as he tried to remember why he got out of bed this morning.
Chapter 17 : The Song Remains the Same
Blind fury erupted from the tactician history would call "The Greatest Scarran, General Kozz", as he screamed in rage at his Lieutenants, "What do you mean you cannot verify the infestation?!"
Zepol undauntedly replied, "The atmospheric phenomena has rendered our sensors useless, and the few scouts we sent for visual verification have been lost. The border squad that first arrived at the planet has confirmed that no ships have arrived or left, this could mean the anti-god is still on the planet."
Kozz snarled, "It could also mean those dren eating dogs blew its carcass from the stars! Do you presume to insult me by telling me the border squad eliminated no fleeing vessels?"
Zepol swallowing hard continued, "No your holiness."
Kozz then forced rationalism as he lowered his voice to an enraged growl; "I want verification. We will sterilize this rock. We will break this rock. We will grind the gravel that's left under our feet, but I want to know. This Crichton will be a spectacle in his death. This ungodly animal must die, then stuffed in a museum, for all time!
Zepol nodded, "Thine is the voice of God, my master."
Kozz, oblivious to Zepol, continued, "Why have I myself arrived if there is no Crichton? Why has the fleet been summoned to this dren-hole of a rock if Crichton is not here?"
Zepol worried, "I do not know."
Kozz approached the lackey, inches from his face, "Allow me to enlighten you then. The entire purpose of the fleet is simply to be a witness as I destroy Crichton with my own two hands. If the abomination is not here, then you should bring him here, do you understand?"
Zepol nodded as stared at his own death, "Yes, your worship." Fearing the master of Fate, he continued, "We will redouble our efforts, leaving no stone unturned. We will rip the memories from the minds of the border squad and sift through the information to verify exactly what ships they destroyed. We will initiate a search pattern around the system and heavily scan for any vessels that may have been overlooked."
Kozz relaxed, understanding that Zepol, the voice of his Lieutenants, was doing everything in his power. His hot, perfect blood, prone to tantrums, cooled as he cast his thoughts to the planet. After all this time, though it was a long journey, shortly Omala would meet Fate.
The cunning General Kozz, obsessed with his prey, knew this Crichton and gathering every morsel of information he could. He knew Crichton was on that rock, his instincts confirmed the notion. As Kozz walked to the view port in his quarters, he looked out at the swirling dust that covered the planet. He knew Crichton was hiding, and he knew there was no escape for the anti-god.
The wise general Kozz processed the information gathered in the last solar day as he stared at the drifting dust cloud of weather that now engulfed the planet. Kozz asked, "What of the communications band?"
Zepol, struggling to regain his composure, replied, "All await the broadcast as per your order, your holiness. Upon thy holy word, we will force and relay our video feed through all known space."
Kozz turned to his Lieutenant as he choked on his anger; "I wonder how you got to your position. I wonder, if the first Scarran thought as you, if we would crawl on our bellies and live in swamps." Answering the confused look on Zepol's countenance, the strategic General Kozz continued, "I was referring to a Com signal. Have you been able to receive an indications that Com activity is present?"
Zepol stammered, "I... We... had assumed since the scanners were not able to penetrate the storm, then any active Com signal would be equally ineffective since it is based on a simpler technology." Then as Kozz waited, the terrified Zepol continued, "...Your Godliness."
Kozz returned to the view port and continued, "This is what you will do. You will extract the information from the border squad. You will then insure the vid broadcast is ready at a moments notice. You will then call all fighters and cruisers back to the groupings I assigned in the command nexus. You will have all ships, all vessels, down to the last transport pod scour the planet, sector by sector, and search for any indications of Com activity."
The mighty General Kozz then turned to Zepol. He informed, "The Com signal used by Crichton at Tazur travels across a separate wavelength from our sensors. Much like the Peacekeepers Com, the technology is as inferior as it is different. There is a strong chance he has been listening to our transmissions, and I want that rock cleansed! I want you to inform the engineers to monitor signal falloff. If there is so much as a hint that an active Com is present on the planet, I want all guns to target it immediately, and then inform me.
"While you are doing this, I want you to assign a group to ascertain the exact location of the only structure on the planet. Have them take into account the time that has passed, and where the structure was originally located.
"And at the same time as this, I want you to assign another group to gather the information from the logs on what you considered 'seismic' disturbances, and pinpoint them exactly, whether a false positive or not. Do you understand?"
Zepol choked an acknowledgement, "Yes, your-"
"Then do it now!" barked the general history would also call "The Thorough General Kozz".
Zepol marched from the room as the solitude embraced Kozz. Thinking of the incredible weapons at his disposal, he also thought of the slow and inept officers that hindered more than helped. He thought of what his scientists called "The Great Ionizer". How this standard issued Dreadnought weapon could actually scan an enemy vessel for organic matter, effectively targeting it alone. Then alter the physical constructs to incinerating all organic matter while leaving any other of the ships functions intact. He thought of how it was especially effective on Leviathans.
He then thought of the pathetic Scarran, how they have depended upon machines to kill for them instead of the design nature provided. He thought of how slow they had become, and how dependant, instead of opening their God given eyes, they wallow in science and sorcery.
Sighing as if in resignation, the general history would call "The Scarran that Destroyed Omala", looked deep within his soul. His first objective would be to give the Scarran back their mivonks, accomplished at the death of Crichton. The second step would be to prove their worth, which will come at the genocide of the Sebaceans and the Pathfinders. The last step would be to engulf he rest of space, destroying all that grew as the Scarrans gained their holy momentum. Kozz pictured this, as he watched the swirling and rhythmic patterns of what he knew belonged to an artificial storm.
He accepted the fact he was the last of the intelligent Scarrans. He accepted that others must do the will of God at a cowardly distance, unlike the manner that he knew. He was able to accept the fact that it would take two generations for the Scarrans to fulfill their rightful place. He also accepted the fact that he was simply a turning point for the entire race. He knew this and he accepted this, since this was how it had to be.
Chapter 18 : Killer of Giants
Losing all control of the vessel, Chiana and her shaken crew secured themselves to their seats in the Pathfinder Scout ship. Being both impressed and frustrated by Aeryn's immaculate piloting, Chiana turned her attention to stabilizing the vessel she flew. As the corridor before them twisted and turned, they rotated uncontrollably as the path of the vortex threatened to lose cohesion, spitting them out anywhere in the universe.
Sitting in the seat of what would normally be the copilot's, Gilina cried. Thinking how she had seen her mommy, and how her mommy never acknowledged her as she called to her on the talking box. Gilina lost her doll Moya, and felt very bad about forgetting her doll on her daddy's ship. Gilina was a little girl. She was a sad little girl, and she had seen more over the last solar day, than most had ever seen.
Though jostled and shaken, the Dominar Rygel found himself intact after landing into the rations compartment. Executing the only reasonable course of action, Rygel ate his way to freedom as he gobbled the distance between himself and his throne.
Holding a firm understanding of the Pathfinder Scout, Chiana struggled with the vessel as it careened through the Crichton-vortex. Upon entering the service of her Goddess, the missionary China had Pathfinder technology forced on her at the beginning of another Scarran and Peacekeeper war. Unable still to understand a large portion of the science behind the technology, Chiana knew the buttons to press and the switches to throw, which under normal circumstances would have guaranteed success in piloting the craft. Spinning aimlessly through the cavernous void, Chiana ironically found herself at ease as she desperately tried coaxing the scout in a vain attempt to regain control.
As the anomaly lost cohesion, Chiana darted through a brief opening praying that the integrity of the ship would remain intact. As they exited into space Chiana became dumbfounded. Had Chiana been able to speak she would have screamed. As Chiana quickly killed the pod's power, she squeaked in a desperate attempt to shout. Her mouth curled in agony as she feebly attempted to mourn their passing. As her bottled emotions exploded in silence, she panicked praying to the Goddess for understanding, mercy, and hope.
Rygel, upon exiting the rations compartment, waddled up to the front in disbelief. In a rhythmic "thump-ditty-thump" of gas expulsion, he shook violently as tears began streaming down his little green face. As his little life passed before his eyes, he thought, "Should I have been stronger? Should I have been braver? Should I have been a better Dominar?" Then replied, "Shut the frell up, and panic!" Therefore, he did.
The girl Gilina, looked through the eyes of a four-cycle-old child, was never witness to the horrors of space. She looked out and saw what the others could not. "Very Pretty colors." the distracted Gilina mused. She was right. They danced, they twirled, and they bounced all around. They were very, very pretty. They were in space, they were on moons, and they were in planets. There was beige. There was red. There was green and black. Had she understood the sight before her, she would have known that she would never, and could never, see this again.
As a half an arn passed, Chiana's mind began to function. Her mind began to frantically race. She did not understand, regardless of the grace of the Goddess, how they were still alive. As they floated, dead and undetected, Chiana fought to accept what her eyes confided. She began to relax, as she returned to regular breathing. Glancing over to an exploding Rygel, she then looked at the naive little girl that giggled and counted the many thousands of shapes. As far as the little girl could see, the lights went on forever. The shapes went on forever.
Rygel renewed the rhythmic flatulence as Gilina giggled. "What are you laughing at?" squeaked the tiny lord. "We should all be dead!"
Gilina asked, "Why?"
Chirping like a child himself, Rygel continued, "Because we have found their spawning grounds. The old ones came to die; the young ones hunt for mates, and the baby ones devour any thing they can find. This place cannot exist. It's only a legend."
Chiana slapped Rygel then swept her arm across the view port defiantly. Squawking, Rygel argued, "I can see it with my own eyes you frelling cheap tralk!" Chiana slumped in her seat, overwhelmed by the view, as a dagger of anxiety stabbed her heart. As she peered back to Rygel, he locked eyes with the priestess and affirmed, "I am afraid," releasing another salvo so violent he nearly drenned himself.
As the greater masses began pulling the scout in with their gravitational field, Chiana turned her mind toward a solution. Remembering the coupler system attached to life support on the scout, Chiana had the idea of redirecting the exhaust outward. This would allow a small a mount of maneuverability without generating any electro-magnetic charge. She prided herself on her own grace under pressure. Moving to the back of the rear of the cabin, Chiana removed the cover plated and began climbing into the conduits of the scout.
Shaking, Rygel's system refused to generate more helium, causing excruciating pain.
"Why are you making that funny face, Uncle Sparky?" Gilina laughed.
"Because I can't take any more, I almost was eaten by one of those beasts, and now it looks like it will reclaim its lunch." Rygel peeped.
"The pretty lights?" pondered the little girl.
"Pretty lights my emma!" Rygel grunted "Those are Budong!"
"OH!" Gilina's little mind raced as she thought of the joy her and her father shared, how he always made her giggle as he would chomp her. Squealing as she jumped to her feet and clapped her hands, the small Aeryn exuded joy and wonder. She marveled at the very big shapes, some as colossal as planets, as she hopped in front of the control panel.
Firing up the crafts power and engines, the little mimic shot toward an ancient Budong who sat waiting to die. "OMP! OMP!" chanted the little girl as Rygel reached deep within to find a fresh pocket of helium. Chiana, unable to shout, scream, or cry, fought desperately to climb from the conduit and reach the little girl in time. Now deep within the core of the Budong masses, the craft was immediately noticed.
Tapping the box she had taken from her daddy's ship, she pretended it was a talking box. "OMP! OMP! Daddy!" She cheered into the device as it began pulsing in a yellow-white light. The unique metal comprising the hull of the Pathfinder Scout acted as an amplifier for the nuclear throbbing. As the yellow-white pulsing craft flew further into the sea, the massive Budongs crashed together as they fought for the exploding treat. "OMP! OMP!"
She noticed the Budongs were trying to chomp her and she giggled as she sped further into their midst, now running the scout at full acceleration. Trailing the scout, the Budong collected toward the morsel, as the ship began stuttering from the massed gravitation. Drawing the attention of the ancient Budong, the vessel sped toward the center of the Herculean mass. The pursuing riot crushed into each other, focusing on the food. Chiana finally arrived at her side, as a silent scream emitted from the mouth of the Nebari. Erupting nearly out of their sockets, Rygel's eyes bulged, as the little girl turned and flipped the ship to narrowly elude maw after maw.
As little girls are apt to do, Gilina's concentration faltered. She thought about her mommy, and remembered how her mommy always fixed things and made her happy. She thought about her daddy, and remembered how her daddy made her laugh. She missed him; She was scared for him. She started to cry. "...omp ...omp", she cried, as tears rolled down her tired little face. As the stampede closed on the craft, history will always remember the tiny and slow scout as having a very little girl, who loved her parents, commanding the helm.
Chapter 19 : Jailhouse Rock
There was too many of them. Aeryn's grid, a solid pulse of red flashes, confessed its obsolescence, as there were simply too many enemy vessels to gauge. As the small moon rotated, her breath hitched as she beheld the sight her mind refused to believe. "There are too many," she groaned as a Scarran fighter passed slowly overhead.
She could not count them all. Were there fifty or eighty Scarran Dreadnoughts? Were there a hundred or more Deathbringers? Surrounding them, countless thousands of intermediate ships all amassing for an immanent attack. She was dead, and she knew it. Free from the burden of self-preservation, she watched as more reinforcements arrived at Omala. Ten more fighters followed by a dozen passed overhead, as she fell in their shadow.
Failing in her mission, she felt as if she had murdered all on Omala. Marveling at the death machine before her, she realized no help would be enough. Her mission being an impotent and pathetic waste and all Aeryn could do was sit and watch as they sterilized Omala and John, her John, was taken away from her again.
The blinding rage of a caged wild animal grew in her mind. Quickly rating an inventory of power and weapons, the offence became the only option. Realizing she was dead already, Aeryn released the docking clamps of Xhalax, as she asked her mother to bring her to John. Initiating a short burst away from the moon, Aeryn drifted in the direction of Omala. Futilely fighting tears as she gulped down the fear, her shaking hands rested on the fire controls as she hoped she could float past the barricade, to die with her man.
Microts felt like arns as she slowly neared the barricade. Aeryn, allowing herself to weep with anger and frustration, vowed she would do anything real or imagined to spare John. Before, she had let him play the part of the hero. She had allowed him to murder himself to save her and their friends. She swore he would never do this again, as she then remembered her oath. Aeryn took no oath lightly. She vowed to John, cycles ago, that if it she had to die, so that John would live then she simply would die for him and he would not and could not have a say in it. She was quite possibly the best prowler pilot in the UT, she knew her skills, and she knew her job. Floating toward the barricade, she braced herself for the fight of her life.
Painfully, Aeryn floated as she passed between seven Dreadnoughts. Another, directly between her and he planet, was unavoidable. A dark smile lit her face, as her will became iron and her nerves turned to steel. "They are not even scanning for me"; she mused at the Scarran hubris. She then laughed as John's voice popped in her mind saying, "When you least expect it, expect it."
Wiping the tears from her face, and focussing on the immediate Dreadnought, she could see its power cluster, structurally located toward the rear of the monsters, was exposed to her. She thought, "If I can float a bit closer, and if I could raise my shields, I might be able to ignite the cluster." Knowing that doing so could cause a chain reaction that would consume the unaware Dreadnought, along with any unshielded company within the range of the chain reaction. "Would I live?" she thought and laughed at the moot question.
Presetting the controls for a faster execution, Aeryn floated ever closer to the prey. She knew she was well within firing range, but she wanted to insure a successful mission. Her hands, now solid and absolute stayed ready at he controls. The thought entered her mind, "What if they begin sterilization?" and she answered aloud "Kill them all, let God sort their trout!" She hinged to strike.
As she free floated ever nearer, time ticked away, as fate played its hand.
-
Aboard the Dreadnought flagship, Kozz was immediately alerted, "Your holiness, we've locked onto a Com signal and the engineers have verified it is exactly where Omala is located."
Kozz grinned as he readied for the prey's death to end the hunt. "Open the frequency so I can insure he can hear me! Then begin the vid broadcast of this glorious event through all known space. No one is to fire until I expressly command each to do so!"
A nervous ensign whined, "It is done, my God"
Kozz grinned as Fate finally found Crichton.
-
Though working as fast as possible, BoWeen could not decipher all the needed information in time.
John paced frantically as he heard his Com chirp, "Vile deceiver Crichton..."
Crichton pulled the Com from his pocket and nodded to an alerted Stark, "Don't worry, I got it. It's for me. Kozz-bee, wat-up Wally 'Gator?"
Kozz drooled, "I am to inform you-"
"-that you are going to die?" Crichton continued, mocking the Scarran.
Kozz growled, "Do not take me-"
"-for a fool?" Crichton finished, "Look, you come to dance, or have you come whining about the same old crap I've heard well over a million times?"
Kozz paused recognizing the goading, and quickly remarked, "Fate will greet you." Upon saying this, Kozz made a fist. Upon the signal the flagship Fate fired upon the fort of Omala.
-
A bright flash caught the corner of her eye. Quickly, Aeryn activated her shields, her weapons, and her plan. She targeted the power cluster and fired. As the explosion shot debris in all directions, fire and light formed a bubble of destruction letting nothing escape.
The air itself was scorching as Aeryn fought to breathe in the inferno. As her canopy cracked, Aeryn thought of John, taking one last gulp of air. The broken prowler, impaled by the uncountable shrapnel, plummeted toward Omala.
-
As the last hope exited their vortex, they beheld the horror of the armada that swarmed Omala. As a grand explosion ignited in the heart of the enemy fleet, D'Argo barked formation orders.
A swarm of fighters broke off to engage the intruders as D'Argo split from the attack force to launch his own assault. As he spun the Angel of Death between the oncoming fighters, D'Argo fired at will, disintegrating two. Cursed by the mass that opposed him, D'Argo fought on as he heard confusion over the Com.
As the fighters continued to engage the enemies, the Dreadnoughts turned their weapons aim from the planet to the stars. D'Argo, screaming in rage as Jool cried, circled a Dreadnought whose name translated to Fate as it heavily damaged his ship. Firing wildly, D'Argo struck a small conduit that ignited over the side of the Scarran flagship, as they undauntedly fought the giant.
Jothee in his own Angel called Hope followed his father's lead as he began the chore of chipping away at the opposite side of Fate. Detecting the Scarrans transmission of laughter, Jothee fought on. While disabling a fusion cannon, his Angel of Hope fell by the sheer power of Fate.
A blast of light erupted from opposite side of the Fate. The light flickered briefly as the Angel of Hope and Angel of Death fought defiantly against the ever-powerful Fate. The Angel of Hope took one to many hits, as the heroic Jothee fought vainly against Fate. As his control panel sparked then went dead, the Hope lay powerless in space. The Dreadnought diverting all its attention to the Angel fired repeatedly as it launched an eternal salvo at the craft, creating a mass of radiated fire. The power of God cast the Angel into the fire.
Seizing the opportunity, The Angel of Death crippled Fate, managing to circle behind it. Firing repeatedly at the vessel, Death crippled the power cluster and rendered the giant immobile. Laughing D'Argo fired upon the vessel; greeted with a fresh attack of more fighters, they chewed away his defenses. D'Argo prepared himself for the worst. While warning Jool, their last target exploded as they moved in for another attack.
Searching the space for his savior, the confused D'Argo looked over to Jool and then noticed her hands were resting on the controls of the secondary canons. Surprised, he looked up to Jool's face. She glanced at him, tears in her eyes, as she cast him a quick wink then turned her attention back to the power cluster of Fate. As the power clusters ignited, D'Argo sped toward the next Dreadnought. The Angel of Death, having done its job, moved on regardless of Fate.
Glancing over to his forces, he noted a brief flash of light emit from a Dreadnought as allied an enemy ships alike laid dead in space. Not understanding this new weapon, and watching more Scarrans applying themselves to the battle, D'Argo knew it was over. D'Argo surmised his Angel's damage. He looked over to Jool and knew their time together was over. Flying between the planet and the Scarran fleet, D'Argo and Jool made their last stand.
Chapter 20 : Praise the Lord, and Pass the Ammunition
Screaming through his gore and lust, the God Kozz ordered his minions, "All vessels! Fire on the preset coordinates! Initiate air to air defense to eliminate the light resistance. I want that planet ripped from my space! Engineering, initialize the secondary power cluster and reroute all special weapons power to standard weapons! Helmsman! Bring us about!"
Fire and smoke poured through the damaged ship as the wounded tactician Kozz basked in the heat. Though taken by surprise he easily eliminated one Luxan craft and now fired repeatedly in the second as he sought to drive it, by shear power alone, into the dust of the rock. He rejoiced, savoring the sour and metallic taste of his own blood, knowing from experience this was his day, and this was his battle to win.
Knowing he had now collected a vid audience unparalleled in time, Kozz used this opportunity for showmanship. "After we finish with this, we will take every planet that was promised to us, and we will grind all that is under our heels!" As all Scarrans throughout the universe cheered from their mivonks.
"Your holiness!" squawked some impudent pig; "The Com signal has ceased! The anti-god Crichton is no more! Should we continue firing?"
The Mighty Kozz spun in his command's chair as he turned his attention to the voice. "Fire until that planet is dead! And gone!" Kozz laughed as his blood trickled from his eyes and nostrils.
Part IV : Shout at the Devil
Chapter 21 : Love is a Battlefield
Hardened by time, action, and grit, the soldier's strength equaled its loyalty. Pride matched the soldier's tenacity. Every day was a holiday and every meal was a feast as the soldier served the Peacekeepers for a lifetime. Born into Peacekeeper service, and dying as a Peacekeeper, the soldier knew no other life. With a deeply scarred body and soul, the soldier repeatedly proved its devotion to the Peacekeeper's High Command. The soldier repeatedly spat in the face of destiny.
Some believed this officer was a product of flawless mind control. Some reasoned this officer was the epitome of servitude. Still some feared this officer was a malevolent demon, forged in Sebacean form and bound to its masters the Peacekeepers. Regardless, this officer was a mad dog that repeatedly chewed through its chain.
This warrior lived in grief and pain. This warrior flourished in torment and war. With reckless abandon, this warrior fought daily, letting nothing stand in its way. Living and fighting only with orders, this warrior proved it had guts. This warrior maliciously forced fate to tear its heart out, as it survived for cycles within its own private hell. This warrior did not die without discipline; this warrior did not die without honor.
No matter the cost, no matter the reason, no matter the sacrifice, that same soldier was dedication. That same soldier became family to the daughter it died in front of. That same soldier was integrity. That same soldier was principle. That same soldier was Officer Xhalax Sun, and Xhalax Sun was a spiteful bitch.
Xhalax, the heavily modified prowler named after Aeryn's mother, proved it earned its title. Thrown from the stars, swallowed by clouds of dust, and preposterously lacerated with shrapnel, Xhalax still fought on. As Aeryn bled, she donned a breathing harness, trying uselessly to get her bearings. Her now active Com crackled, but her scanning appeared blocked. She could gain no bearings as she flew blind through the swirling sea of sand.
As the Scarran warlords fired above, Aeryn witnessed through a cracked canopy, distant flashes as collateral fire rained on the planet below. Gauging the fire and following the brief bolts of the fusion cannons, Aeryn reasoned up from down as she straitened the prowler accordingly. Partially blinded with her blood and sweat, Aeryn applied the stasis generator and activated it.
"I am NOT done with you frell-heads yet!" Aeryn coughed with a mouth full of blood. As she sped back toward the stars, a firm force hit her ship.
Chapter 22 : Life in the Fast Lane
As D'Argo barked commands to the Angel's artificial intelligence, the ship began forming a hard shell, closing its eyes and activating its singular unique weapons system. D'Argo thought of the new Scarran weapon, which destroyed his allies. He knew this weapon would prove itself useless in the close quarters of the now recovering flagship, as none would risk harming the Dreadnought's command.
As D'Argo moved to attack, the Dreadnought called Fate fell back as masses of others consumed the void and opened fire. Undaunted, Death flew through the rain and likewise returned an attack. As the Angel of Death visited the Scarrans, ship after ship melted in its path.
Facing sheer numbers, Death struggled against wave upon wave of fighters and explosions. Jool activated the incendiary torpedoes as they sped on to obliterate the masses that formed. Capitalizing on the opening, D'Argo darted closer to the fleeing Fate as Death narrowly escaped the bright pulse of the new Scarran weapon, as the pursuing Scarran fighters lay derelict after the flash.
As a few Dreadnoughts altered course, for what D'Argo assumed as a second chance, D'Argo found himself surrounded by Deathbringers as their fusion web tore into his Angel. Racing time as the Dreadnoughts turned, D'Argo lashed out, unable to flee or be free from the cage.
Hope still lived, as the dust caked Angel cut through a side of the mass, melting the Deathbringers where they fought. Both Angels turned; consuming the distance between them and the Dreadnoughts, as a brief pulse of light hit Jothee and his Angel.
"Jothee!" Screamed D'Argo and Jool simultaneously as they witnessed the Angel in the light.
After a brief pulse as a second flash hit the miracle that was Hope, "I'm OK," replied Jothee, "I think the dust that the planet is spitting up makes this weapon ineffective. I will make a hole to the planet. Dip into the atmosphere and soak in the dust to cover your Angel. NOW! MOVE YOUR EMMA!"
As D'Argo looked at his partner a little disgusted, and Jool shrugged as she rolled her eyes away, "Well, like father like son."
As a butcher carves a carcass, Jothee sped through the gauntlet, tearing a hole in the resistance. D'Argo followed as they raced to the planet. Several pulses of Scarran light flashed as the Angels disappeared into the eternal cloud.
Chapter 23 : Barroom Blitz
Crichton struggled to stand above the crushed Com as the Scarrans attacked Omala. Every jolt surging through the dome as it violently shook in protest. All the lighted squares began pulsing rapidly, as Boris broadcast the same series of motions repeatedly.
The knocked and jostled Stark lay sprawled parallel across BoWeen's frame. Apologizing and embarrassed as he pulled himself off her body, and was shocked to receive a wink and a grin from the affected Caretaker. Fighting to regain his balance and composure he motioned again to the now flickering Boris that danced in the corner. As BoWeen sat up off her elbows and regained communication, Stark yelled to Crichton, "John, we have to make a choice!"
Trying to crouch near a wall for support, Crichton yelled over the thunder and chaos, "What are our options?!" As the massive salvo of the next wave hit, all hopped and slid across the room, as Crichton thought of a "Tilt-a-whirl".
As a colossal attack then struck Omala, shaking every inch of the planet, The Banik screamed over the strife, "HAVE TO... RELEASE... WRATH! ... TOWARD OMALA... OR... TOWARD UNIVERSE?!"
In that second, Crichton thought of the possibilities. He thought of the Goddess and religion or not, what would happen if Omala were destroyed. If Omala were to suffer the wrath, would that be suicide? If the universe were to suffer the wrath, would that be murder? He thought of the Scarrans, and the Peacekeepers, and all the myriad of warrior races that craved death and destruction. He thought of his torture at the hands of Scorpius. Crichton thought of his anger and his hate and his guilt.
Crichton thought of the Goddess, and religion or not, there was some hefty power and technology sitting within this dome. The wrath of the Goddess would have to be some absolute technology equaling some absolute destruction. His mind then flashed to the Scarrans and Peacekeepers having enough time to translate the information. When their war continued, how many would die due to his inaction?
Crichton thought of all that served the Goddess, how religion has its place, and how science its place. He thought how billions or even trillions of believers would react when finding their Goddess to be not what they expected. Would they then fragment or shatter into gratuitous sects, undermining the purpose of unity? Would brother kill sister, and child kill parent, in a perpetual holy civil war?
Crichton thought of himself, and if he wielded the power of Omala. He then thought of the possibilities and of every possible aspect. He would wield the power of the Goddess! He would control the people of the Goddess! He himself would be a god-like alien! In truth his mind conceded he still steps out of the shower to take a leak, and besides, being a God may be Kozz's trip but not his.
"So what's my trip?" he thought, and his heart answered. He thought of Aeryn, the fire in his heart. He thought of Jack, the strength of his pride. He then thought of Gilina, the only purity in his life. He then thought how his family, and his extended family, wherever they were, would fall to this absolute wrath of the Goddess. Based on that reason alone John made the choice.
"BRING!... WRATH!... TO PAPA! BRING IT ... HOME!" Crichton yelled over the crash and roar of war.
Stark lunged through the shaking and half jumped - half flew, pressing the square that looked like a cartoon skull, as Omala, the planet, cracked in two.
Chapter 24 : Let's Do The Time Warp (Again)
There were those that deemed him fat and lazy, but he always saw himself and robust and careful. As the special christened him a worm, he considered himself diplomatic. As some labeled him a coward, he looked at himself as tactical. A few dubbed him a snurcher, as he ranked himself a procurer. The unusual even had the audacity to brand him as deceitful, where he plainly lived as a master politician.
Ah, the scourge of greatness. Oh my, the character flaws seen by jealous eyes. Those eyes could never see beyond their own shoddy lineage. Those eyes would forever be unable to grasp the wisdom and the understanding given only to the best of stock. The stock granted only to true leaders. The lineage that existed only in true nobility. Such was the curse of Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth. Such was his lot; forever misunderstood by the rabble he detested leading.
Would they ever consider Rygel the champion? Could even these social misfits be blind to his valiant endeavors? Would history remember that is was Rygel who heroically seized the yellow-white pulsating power source? Would all recall his valiant battle cry, not as some say a freakish whine, as he strode toward the refuse receptacle and flushed the throbbing power source into space? Of course, the child, following Rygel's leadership, shot the craft perpendicular. Then the juvenile used the amassed gravitation of the Budong stampede to shoot the scout to the rear of the turning swarm, as it now powerlessly rides in tow. Even the tralk tried desperately to create an escape wormhole as the enormous forces muddled the adhesion of the ether, not allowing the wormhole substance.
It was Rygel, Dominar Rygel the Sixteen, and the greatest Hynerian, who boldly led all within the Pathfinder Scout as he-
A sharp slap on his head broke the concentration of Rygel as the dazed Hynerian looked at the piloting and cheering Nebari. He realized they were alive, at no small feat of his own, and the again now lifeless pod towed in the intense wake left by the stampeding Budong.
The Budong, with the largest falling to the center tapering out to the youngest around the sides, now formed a near infinite bulk. The unbounded aggregation streamed as a single entity in a strait path through space. The eon enduring Budong exoskeleton, impossible to crush, interlocked the masses together as the greatest ones readily bore the incalculable weight of the concert.
So great was the cumulative speed that the stars began to pass in a choppy stutter. Such perpetual momentum carried the event that all gained speed as one gained speed. Such mass comprised the swarm, that it then created a unique event, carrying its singular power beyond the taught laws of science. Light began bending toward it as the singularity then cut space. Approaching the speed of light, planets became dusts, and stars popped into gaseous goo as all lay gravitationally decimated in the aftermath of the singular cosmic disruption. As a long nail penetrates soft fruit, the Budong stampede bore through the heavens.
The Budong craved no nourishment. The Budong wanted no peace. In a mad frenzy, beyond understanding, the event simply was. Having a single mind, having a single heart, having a single focus, the swarm sped through the nothing. It then gained speed with no resistance and then lost mass with no need of measurement. Speed itself became obsolete, and mass itself became meaningless.
It was not alone that the event had immeasurable density. It was not alone the event had incalculable gravity. The event was, however, both the irresistible force and the immovable object yet it still traveled through a space unable to contain it. As the universe itself fell before it, the balancing forces of equilibrium shifted to the only truly solid substance being the swarm as it became sealed within its own cosmic fold. The speeding stampede carried forward, becoming a self-propelled beam of light dissolving into the darkness of creation.
Riding the tail of the force, Chiana's attempts to free the miniscule scout became pointless. Trapped within some unexplainable vacuum, the vessel rode in tow as the hostage witnessed the aftermath. Chiana sitting locked in the pilot's chair fought on, with Rygel and Gilina buckled together in the co-pilots seat.
As Chiana struggled with the controls, Rygel cast his attention to the tired and crying little girl that sat beside him. Waiting until Chiana was adequately distracted; Rygel embraced the little girl in a hug so grand even he felt he enjoyed it. Smiling through her tears, Gilina hugged back and was thankful her friend was with her.
Feeling as if he were being watched, Rygel shot face forward in his stoic countenance. After quickly reviewing the Nebari pilot, Rygel turned his sight to the view port, priding himself on the success of his recovery. The Nebari pilot then forfeited her composure as a smile swept across her face, watching the entire event from the corner of her eye.
Chapter 25 : Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap
Omala was nothing but dust and gravel. History, now being witnessed by the universal vid broadcast, dubbed "The Greatest Scarran General, The Thorough General Kozz, Destroyer of Omala" as its God. The planet, that one solar day before was the house of the Goddess, became rubble at the hands of the Scarran power.
The mighty fusion cannons, now firing though the cloud of dust, found little resistance. The galactic audience, with a mixture of anguished cries and hearty laughter, all witnessed the destruction of the planet.
The Angels of the Luxans lay suspended in the cloud. The prowler named Xhalax likewise froze in some magnetic grip of sand. The four heroes, now communicating with each other, could not go forward, go back, nor turn as the dust that caked their ships apparently locked them into an ethereal limbo. All complained as the sand and dust somehow permeated their vessels.
In a lust and passion for destruction, the Scarran fleet began to turn away from their latest conquest, moving toward the next system in its wake.
Kozz, laughing as he prepared to end the broadcast, mocked the anti-god Crichton, his fleeting mortality, and all those that failed to defend him. As he preached of the new order, as he praised the sheer power of his race, as he gloated throughout his universe, Kozz fell silent.
The Com crackled and briefly whined, as the voice said, "... Nothing I hate more than god-like aliens... Hey Fuzz-Nuts, anyone ever tell you? 'The opera ain't over, 'till Furlow does the singing'!"
Kozz infuriated at hearing the mockery of the anti-god, screamed in a nonsensical tirade. Flailing his arms and stomping his feet in some childish dance, the crazed Kozz bellowed, as the confused armada became unable to follow the unintelligible orders.
The perfect orb of dust, that once was the planet Omala, dully emitted a yellow-white light. The shimmering dust ball then began throbbing and thumping in a rapidly increasing rhythm. After one sharp flash of a solid bright hue, Omala fell dark again.
The crazed lunatic Kozz screamed with laughter at the flash. "HA! You pathetic-"
Upon reentering the universe, light formed mass and substance, as the unfolding energy became matter. Exiting the travel to become solid, stationary forms, as far as any eye could see or any equipment could gauge, there were Budong.
The ravenous Budong instantly began to devour the arrogance of the Scarrans. In frenzy, the crazed beasts tore through the Scarran armada. The youngest, hardly bigger than the massive Dreadnoughts, ripped and shredded the Scarran ships as they greedily snapped the vessels into pieces.
One Dreadnought was quick enough to ionize a Budong, only to find it had no effect on the gargantuan, comprised of the same matter of Omala's dust. Some tried to run, some lay dumbfounded, and some tried to enter the safety of the orb of Omala. All the tasty vessels, close to eighty percent of the Scarran fleet, the pride of God himself, nourished the voracious in a matter of a very few microts. Clearly, there was not enough food to go around.
A single Pathfinder Scout, piloted by the Caretaker Chiana, materialized near the Budong ignored Omala. The vessel flew into the dust after a slamming to one side by a large Budong tail.
Then, from within the ancient Budong's gizzard, the whimpering shrieks of General Kozz ended the largest vid broadcast known in history.
Chapter 26 : The Wheel in the Sky
The archaic alien machine dubbed Omala, unfolded from its shell within the orb, extending its mass skeleton to its usual proportions. Pulling in and organizing each individual quark, the massive reconstruction began.
Layer upon layer, microt after microt, the unscratched mysterious machine rebuilt the planet that was its home. Layer upon layer, whether rock, air, or water Omala reformed its shell to a stabilized camouflage. Layer upon layer, regardless of original construction, all the dust particles reformed as a living, breathing planet. Omala moved again to its standard orbit and rotation.
The Angels, the scout, and the prowler now rested outside the dome, as the fresh, fertile dirt came again to the original Omala. Through eons of neglect and war, the machine's inactivity let the artificial planet wither as the Caretakers lost the original purpose.
John rose from the stairway, to greet the quietly opening dome, as its shutters revealed fresh clean air, light fluffy clouds, and the smell of rain. The interior of the dome looked as an enormous recessed room, as John noticed that every clean square inch of the metal flowered scribbles of a dead language. There were steps going down farther, accessing other levels and rooms all surrounding an enormous fountain. As the perplexed yet curious Caretakers gathered at the fountain, thunder rolled in the distance. The Caretakers, still void of the power of speech, silently cheered as they adored their reflections in the clear water, and adored each other's appearance.
John noticed everything that was once dust, became something else as he opened the gates of the dome. The dusts became mountains; the dust became lakes and rivers. The dusts became now sprouting plants on the beautiful landscape. The dust became metal as the flawless vessels sat in the fresh, rich dirt at the dome's gates. The dust became flesh as all living things, were now free of scars, wounds, and age. As the dust permeated everything on Omala, everything on Omala lived in the greatest condition. John witnessed the vessels' occupants exiting their crafts in pristine condition.
Gilina ran to her daddy's arms and screamed "I saw a Budong!"
Aeryn, looking as if she were only twenty cycles old, took her daughter from her husband and held her close. After a long hug, Gilina jumped down to run to her Uncle D'Argo. Aeryn grabbed Crichton and flipped him to the moist ground. Straddling his chest, then lowering herself, she slid down his young body until their eyes met. Looking into his heart she grinned, "We have a LOT of work to do."
The overwhelmed John replied, "Oh yeah! Lots a work! Could take days!"
As they began to kiss, the very green Rygel cleared his throat loudly as he passed near them, "*COUGH!* Oh my OMALA is A HOLY place, is it NOT? CHIANA? *COUGH!*"
As John and Aeryn looked at each other, and both nodded, John said aloud "Later! For sure, but later!"
The dome hummed briefly and emitted an odd blue shimmer. After this light, the Budong began flying out of sight, toward destinations unknown.
The Caretakers began dancing in celebration. The new Chiana, free from all but the beauty of her youth, wept with joy as she praised the Goddess. As John and Aeryn rose, friends met. With no pain, no scars, and several tears, there was rejoicing for all. Father, mother, and child embraced, as did father, wife, and son. The Caretakers danced out of the dome, giddy, fresh, and alive. Stark and the now immaculate BoWeen then exited the dome to witness the family. BoWeen was beautiful, young, and appeared fond of Stark as they held hands. As all relayed stories, informing each other of their exploits, it became more understood what had happened.
After a time, John approached the Head Mistress as she was crying and praying. He had trouble beginning what he thought he wanted to say as she knelt in the dark, moist dirt. China looked up at John as he shook his head trying to explain the machine, the ancient technology, and the dome.
Struggling for words John looked at Chiana. She began shaking her head as tears streamed down her young cheeks. She grabbed John's hand, ran to the Caretakers pointing at each one, and then turned to John as she held her head high and seductively and gently stroked her neck. She pointed to the mountains, she pointed to the clouds, and she pointed to the fresh, naked land of the planet. Chiana pointed to the dome, she pointed to the ships, and then he pointed to her heart, as tears streamed down her face.
John struggling to understand said, "Pip, you lost me!"
China fell to her knees and began motions in a long semantic tirade. Chiana rose and held John as she wept.
Stark mentioned, "She does not care if the Goddess is a machine, a ghost, a feeling, a myth, or a plant. What is important to her is that to label some things may only destroy them. What is important to her is that a positive symbol can still light a dark universe, and bring peace to those without the need of definition. The creators of the machine are not important. That Omala serves the Goddess, her positive principles, and that both remain eternal is important. What is important is that her friends are alive, and now they will live longer than ever before. Her heart still feels, her soul is at peace, and she is alive to share herself with her family."
John said "Oh!" as he hugged his sister back, feeling untied from his guilt.
Rygel then introduced the thought. "I am NO mystic, and I find the need to believe in anything beyond a Dominar preposterous. That being said, Crichton, this was all done by the machine, correct?"
Stark grinned in secret, as John said, "Yeah Sparky, looks like that dome is their Goddess."
Rygel mentioned, "It wasn't the dome that let the Sheyangs capture us."
Chiana ran pointing to Rygel, as Aeryn stood side by side with Crichton. Aeryn added, "No, that was not the dome. That was foolish."
Rygel added to Aeryn, "Was it foolish that we just happened to get a Pathfinder Scout and find you in all of space? Then with your Com disabled, you thought we were the enemy because of the scout. Then you forced us into that Budong spawning ground. That was all foolish?"
Standing with his arm around his young wife, D'Argo pondered, "That was chance?"
Rygel then addressed D'Argo, "Was it chance that the child caused the Budong to stampede in the first place?"
As the Caretakers cheered, Jothee interjected, "So, what is your point?"
Rygel shrugged, "All I'm wondering, is that if this machine and this dome are the only thing that is truly the Goddess, then how did this machine make all of us do exactly the best thing? ... Even before Crichton made his decision?"
As the Caretakers rejoiced, most marveled uncomfortably, and Chiana thanked Rygel for the wisdom that could end debate.
Aeryn squeezed John's butt cheek as she accidentally let her tongue slip in his ear with a whisper, "We have better things to ...discuss."
John, nodding in agreement to Aeryn, looked over to Rygel and added, "You gotta point there, Buckwheat." A distant thought crept in his mind how close his biomechanical power source matched Omala's, and decided to think no further.
With a firm slap of encouragement, John then turned again, recognized the look in Aeryn's eyes, and realized he would have to ask Chiana to baby-sit for a very, very long time.
Epilogue :
On a solitary paradise of vegetation and clouds, Omala stood. Throughout the Scorpiun and Crichtonian integration, Omala stood. As long as Gunships have soared the heavens, Omala stood. Far before most races had spoken memory, Omala stood. As the Humans, through singing and prayer, Omala stood. In its grace and in its beauty, confirming all legends and myths, Omala, the temple, stood.
Omala, the planet that shared the garden's name, has always been a place of peace and life. Over the ages, throughout time, creatures beyond measure witness a new beginning both on and over this fruitful, occupied oasis. Over time, the hands of destiny have distributed near infinite fortune and grace across its ornately fertile fields. Its believed cherished and blessed as innumerable faithful spirits reside in their abundant freedom. Nothing exists to verify the history, other than the great, rich garden called Omala.
The planet, capable of supporting more than its share of life, is fruitful accenting the wondrous attraction of the garden. Whether it began as a true garden, or if planted as the inspiration arose, only it and time know. Its walls blossoming with ivy and trees, flourish in a large circular pattern. This massive ringed grove surround its polished and oiled gates, as a lattice continues skyward by beams the width of a meter. Rising high, spaced and crossed, plant covered beams arc in a mesh to make a sacred dome. Preserved and maintained by some unuttered technique, the rich solid fabric of the construction consistently appears tenacious, unbreakable.
Throughout its known history, a holy sect called "The Caretakers" readily tend the plant life within the covered garden. Whether through divine blessing, or similar great proof of favor, they receive their calling to Omala. Committing their quiet lives to the task, the few accepted as "The Caretakers" are destined to receive a place in the heart of the Goddess, as all recognize Omala to be the deity's home.
The universe's eyes watched Omala again this era, and found it as a luscious garden. The unknown centuries have granted this abundant shrine to be a mecca of discussion and interaction, a universal first. All walk to Omala, as "The Caretakers", traditionally tend the garden and close the gates at nightfall. Whether to share their harvest, recognize the Goddess or enjoy life in general, all are welcome at Omala. As belief dictates, as long as the sun shines and the garden's gates remain open the Goddess walks in Omala.
Some say Omala means "The Garden That Could Not Wither" in some long lost tongue. Others maintain it is a religious or magical wonder, daily blessed by the Goddess to endure forever. Some even view it as a intellectual gathering place, allowing all to explore new concepts such as government, philosophy, and religious freedom. Regardless of interpretation, Omala, the temple, stands.
