[Inaius] The Shadows Fall

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Esplandia

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PURGATORY
The Last Man - Clint Mansell


The machine finished its work. He then applied the drops to his eyes. It would help with the healing process, but it would also keep his eyes moisturized.

He climbed carefully out of the chair. Everything was still a blur, but now there was definition to some of the shapes. A desk with a console on it, a high backed chair, a bed in the alcove to the back. He held out his hands and made his way to the edge of the desk. Three dozen more treatments. That’s how many he had left before his sight was renewed.

It could have been worse. It wasn’t much of a comfort. He’d been at ground zero. He should have been incinerated. And yet he’d survived, only his vision taken.

He lowered himself carefully into the chair, one hand on his desk for support, the other on the back of the chair so he didn’t miss. He turned the console on, feeling around for the right switch. It buzzed to life.

“Continue in reduced vision mode?” the machine asked him. He didn’t even acknowledge, he just clicked the correct button. Information ran across the screen, nothing but blurry colors like a rising curtain. The computer read them out to him.

The extent of it. It was beyond his projections. The reaction had been massive. He guessed it had spread out over hundreds of star systems, maybe beyond the local cluster.

“The collapse seems to have followed the open subspace tunnels. Subspace energy waves seemed to have dissipated the further away it spread from detonation site. However, the energy field is not collapsing as you thought it would.”

He put his hands in his head. He tried to weep, but there were no tears. The ducts had been damaged in the detonation. The computer continued to drone on about the impact the device had done, the sheer amount of destruction. And it was all his fault. He had done this.

“Researcher Karpali,” the computer interrupted his dark thoughts. “I have run simulations on the possibility of surviving the initial energy blast.”

He lifted his head up. “Percentage>” he asked, his voice horse from lack of use.

“Very low, but not impossible. If anyone made it to underground bunkers they could have survived the initial output of subspace energy.”

Karpali didn’t even bother to hope. Anyone who had fled underground would have been targets for the Faceless. He knew the energy wouldn’t destroy them. They could survive almost anything but extreme heat and radiation. All he’d done was guaranteed the extinction of his species.

“Would you like to readjust course?” the computer asked. “Khodes seems to be the most likely spot to have survivors.”

“No,” Karpali answered. He closed his eyes against the strain using them caused him. “My course is set. All I can do now is follow through.”


His Wyomna woke him from sleep by placing a kiss on his forehead. “Karpali,” she said softly, “the morning dew will be dry soon. You will miss it.”

He pulled her in close, feeling her shape, her warmth. “I would miss it gladly for another hour of sleep beside you.”

She laughed, pulling herself free. “The Central Authority would not be pleased their head researcher wasn’t there for morning devotions.”

But he didn’t move. He knew this was only a memory. “Stay with me, Wyomna,” he said. “The end is nearing.”

“What nonsense is this,” she laughed.

“The Central Authority will call me away again,” he pleaded. “And this time I won’t return. Everything will be wrong. Please stay here with me.”

But she faded away, along with the bedroom and the warm bed he was laying in. He now stood in a corridor, lit by bright glow-lamps. He stood outside a door and beyond he could hear the voices of outraged and terrified Archons. He knew what they were discussing. He knew that he would make his case, and they would be shocked and disgusted at what he proposed. But they would eventually accept there was no other way.

A messenger would arrive and tell him that Helgadae had fallen, that the faceless would soon arrive on Archaeus. The war was lost. The outer defenses were gone. Wymona and their young pup were gone. Archaeus would fall. His home would fall.

“I can’t,” he said, turning away. He couldn’t relive this. Why was he forced to relive this? Why did his dreams hate him so?

He turned and he was now facing the fiery and angry eyes of Special Consul Arsul. “My way would have worked,” he roared. He reached out a cybernetic hand as if to grasp at Karpali’s neck. “We could have stopped them!”

“Your way killed my wife,” Karpali shot back. “My son. All of Archaeus.”

“It stopped them,” the cyborg said. Even as Karpali watched more and more of his limbs were being replaced. His legs were now robotic, his chest machine. And his eyes were now cold, dead and lifeless.

“You burned the holy world and still the faceless came.”

“We should have burned all the outer worlds. Cleansed them. Left nothing for the faceless.” Now he was completely machine and he turned and fled through an archway, shadows moving to follow.

Karpali closed his eyes. This is a dream. I must wake up.

He opened his eyes and saw only the top of his sleeping alcove, still blurry but clearer. He pulled himself up, checking how much time had passed. He’d only slept for a short time, not enough to be rested.

“How much longer until we reach our destination?” he asked.

“Thirteen years, forty days, nineteen hours.”

He closed his eyes again and this time felt the tears come. The machine had been healing his sight and now he could cry again. This was his purgatory. He had to pay for what he’d done.
 
THE WATCHER BEYOND
Holy Dread! - Clint Mansell

There was sensation. A thousand different pinpricks. A flash, an irritation, and then it was gone. Like a gnat, a quick sting, soon forgotten about. This went on with barely a consideration. Whatever these things were required no consideration, no action. There and gone, naught but momentary interlopers.

The consciousness, infinite and timeless, had no thought for things so small. It’s own mind was a universe. It existed completely in its universe. It was its own universe. And so it had been since the beginning. So it would be until the end.

But then something changed. Those small bites, once barely a momentary annoyance, became a permanent and lasting pain. No longer fleeting pin pricks, but the burning pain of a needle driven deep into flesh, if the consciousness could be said to have flesh.

It reacted, the first time it ever had to, but it was ineffectual. This pain was caused by life forms outside its existence. It’s powers, great and terrible within its own universe, had no effect on these interlopers. And so it turned its great consciousness upon this new life which had burrowed into its domain.

And it was patience. To a being that was timeless, the wait was short. The needling pain was only a hole, a burrowed tunnel out of another universe, through its being, and then back into the other. A shortcut for them.

Was that what all those small stings had been? Something passing through its being as a shortcut in their own universe? The thought intrigued it. But the thought also infuriated the consciousness.

Eventually it perceived the small beings passing through their tunnel. Hundreds of them, thousands. Passing through in less than a blink, an infinitesimal blink. And so, it eventually plucked one out of its tunnel. It did not survive. These creatures, so small and insignificant, could not exist in its existence. And yet they dared to use it as a shortcut across their own.

It continued to study, plucking more out, but also trying to change them so they would survive. And when at last one did, floating terrified and alone in the blackness of the consciousness’ existence, all of this things knowledge and memories belonged now to the consciousness.

And it saw a great universe, alien and infinite. A universe that to consciousness was wrong. It was an abomination of existence, one of micro consciousness. An empty and directionless existence. A place bereft of anything like it.

So the consciousness pondered how to correct it. It needed a great consciousness of its own, this it saw plain. Something great and infinite, as it was.

It plucked more beings from their tunnels. And it reshaped them. These new creatures would be designed such that they would infect others, destroy the corruption, and spread and spread until they filled the whole of this alien universe. A consciousness of its own, made from micro consciousnesses until they reached critical mass and became a great macro one, as it was.

It sent the changed beings back, and like a virus they spread, using the interloper's own tunnels against them. The consciousness, with its infinite patience, needed only to wait. But then there was a pain, greater than the pin pricks, greater than the stabbing tunnels. It was like a great fire opened up in it. It tore at its existence, the pain muddled its consciousness. A great wound was opened up, a tear in its existence that lead to this other universe. And it could feel its power, it’s energy, it’s existence, leaking out, a trickle into the other universe.

In its agony the consciousness swore it would bring destruction to this abominable and empty universe. It would endure the pain. It was patient. It began to consider what it would do next.
 
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ISOLATION AND DESPAIR
Tree of Life - Clint Mansell


Ten years passed in his purgatory. And no company save for his thoughts and the capsule's computer interface, truly nothing more than a simple response program. Just capable of call and response, not true conversation.

He’d come to loathe every meter of his prison. Every bulkhead, every pipe, every wire. His day was spent at his desk, or in his bunk. There were few other places to go aside from the living compartment or the waste compartment. The small control room at the front where navigation input could be put, only a cramped compartment. Or the machine room below the deck, a space so small he had to squat to move around, and the noise of the machinery was deafening.

The capsule provided nutrition via an organic paste that was stored in tanks in the lower compartment. It sustained him, but he came to loathe the bitter greens taste, and the mushy fibrous texture. He’d go for the span of a week without eating due to his disgust, until the computer reminded him to maintain nutrition.

At first he had diligently kept a log, and that turned into more of a memoir, his thoughts and experiences, before it devolved into the mad ravings of a truly isolated individual. Eventually he gave up on it, the last entry made more than two years ago.

And so he passed his time, suffering the quiet solitude, his mind a turmoil of guilt and desperation. Perhaps there would be a redemption from all this. That had become his mantra. There will be salvation at Ximballa. The hope of it, of finding peace, of making his choice have more meaning than stopping the faceless, it was all that kept him going.

He read the data the capsule collected on their trip, and he began to understand what had happened. His weapon, the subspace bomb, had worked. He had detonated it precisely where it needed to be, right at the confluence of all the subspace tunnels, collapsing them all in one go. The unforeseen effect had been that it had torn through space-time, into the layer of subspace beyond, causing a rift from energy exploding outward. And all of this happened as the tunnels collapsed, pushing energy out along them, creating smaller additional ruptures. Where once had been a quiet corner of the galaxy, now a great mass of energy swirled and crashed through space in a maelstrom display of energy.

He had hoped at first that it could be reversed, that the rupture could be sealed. His hopes faded the more he began to understand the data. The hole could not be sealed, not from this side at least. He pondered the possibility of entering subspace to fix it, but that thought went nowhere. Subspace did not behave like real-space, and he had no way of navigating on the other side. And he knew that something lived beyond, on the other side of the rupture, and that it had manifested itself on this side as the faceless plague.

And so he fixed his attention onto the energy leaking out. How it reacted with real-space became his obsession. The creation of energy storms that travelled at faster than light speeds across space, and the exotic radiations it left behind. The data left open the possibility of the survival of life within the subspace energy cloud. Outside on the edges the forces at work would scrub worlds clean, but closer to the source, where the subspace energies had not completely interacted with real-space forces, there could be the possibility of life.

“Could other Archons have survived somewhere?” he wondered aloud, for a moment a spark of hope rising in him, that he was not alone. An Archon community could have survived on a world the faceless hadn’t reached.

“Survival of initial blast is low, but unlikely,” chimed the computer thinking the question was directed at it. “However, Archon physiology would be negatively affected by continued exposure. Any survivors would likely be left sterile and start manifesting deleterious effects from DNA degradation within just a few short years.” The computer then launched into a long list of what could be expected from these long term effects.

Karpali listened only for a short time, then left his desk to collapse into his bunk as the computer continued to drone on. He would not eat or get out of bed for the next three days.
 
THE PAIN OF HOPE
Stay With Me - Clint Mansell


The Archons did not believe in a god, but Archaeus was holy. It was the world from which they came. The mother world. A garden of lush green forests, of dark jungles, of towering mountains and wide river valleys. They had spread to the stars and decided to tear down the old cities and let nature reclaim the planet. Aside from the City of Ar-Athraebus, the planet was a rural world.

Karpali and Wyomna had built a villa on the shores of the Gray Sea after they married. She tended the garden where she grew pamolets to sell at the market. He travelled to Persephae for work at the Central Authority, often being gone for days at a time. She knew his work was important, that he was well respected, so she endured the nights alone. It was worth missing him just for the time they did spend together.

Their times together were growing shorter and more infrequent. He was head researcher and there was always something keeping him away. And this time when he came home he spent most of his time in silent contemplation. Something was bothering him.

“You seem distracted,” she said, pouring him a glass of Uolz juice.

He looked up from his thoughts. “It’s nothing,” he assured her, but he knew she wouldn’t buy it so he told her the truth. “The Central Authority is worried. Something is happening on the outer worlds, and little communication about what’s happening.”

“We have a no work-talk when at home policy,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he said apologetically. “It’s just the entire Cooperative seems on edge and they expect answers from me. But for you, I’ll relax and talk about your garden.”

She kissed him on his ear, and he held her in his arms, stroking her long red and brown hair. After dinner they sat out in her garden, watching the waves crash against the shore. She held his hand, and her grip would grow firm around his hand, before she’d sigh and loosen her grip. A few times of this passed before Karpali spoke. “Is something bothering you, my love?”

She gave him a pained smile. “There was good news I was to share with you, but now the news is not so good.”

He took her hands and stared into her eyes. “What is it?”

“I was going to tell you I was pregnant,” she said.

“That’s wonderful,” he beamed.

But she shook her head. “I went to the physician yesterday for a check-up, and it seems most of the embryos were not viable.”

“Were any of them?”

“A few,” she bemoaned, “but he was not certain they would take.”

Karpali held her hand. So many emotions rushed through him; love, fear, sadness, frustration. “We have been trying for so long,” he said.

“There’s still hope for this litter,” she assured him. “I haven’t given up hope. Just one must take. That’s all I wish for.”

He held her close and stroked her hair as they stared out across the waves. He hoped and worried for the future.


He took a few more days off and went with her to the next appointment. They held each other as they waited for the results of the examination. The physician called them into his office and gave them the news.

“You have quickened,” he told Wyomna, and they started to cry together in relief. “Only one embryo took, so this won't be a litter. A single embryo pregnancy doesn’t mean things will be easier though, there are a couple of risks.” He spoke to them for a while and they listened as best they could, but they were so excited. A child. They had been waiting and hoping for one for so long.

That night in the villa they spent the happiest night of their lives together. They could expect a pup in the spring. The next morning she woke him to go walk among the dew for devotions, to give thanks to the mother world.

The Central Authority would send a messenger that day to bring him back to Persephae for an emergency meeting. A report had finally returned from the outer worlds, and the news was horrifying. She begged him to stay, just for another day, but he had a duty to perform and so he left, kissing her on the cheek and promising to return as soon as he could. The pup would be born in the spring, a girl child, but he would never see her, never hold her. The faceless horde would wash across the Cooperative and, even before the pup’s first moon, all would be lost.
 
UNTIL MY WORK IS DONE
Death Is a Disease - Clint Mansell


“We must stand and fight!” The words were punctuated by a metal fist pounding the podium. “Three dozen worlds, lost, without resistance.”

The supreme omnipote barely raised his eyes, frustrated with the unending inability to stop this threat. “How would you suggest we do fight, Consul Arsul?” he asked, his gravelly voice more weary than usual. “Entire armies have already perished against this enemy. Our military has proven useless. Not even the complete life-scrubbing of infected worlds has stopped these things.”

Arsul gave the Omnipote a scathing glare. His feelings of their leader had always been clear. There was no love between them.

He gripped the podium again, his cybernetic hands cracking the crystalline material. “Heat seems to affect them.”

“Then we’ll fight them in the summer,” someone snickered.

Arsul ignored them. “Extreme heats, like those generated in atomic discharge, could easily work.”

“You want to nuke them?” the Omnipote asked incredulously.

“They’re already overrunning our colonies. I propose we create massive doom engines on all the worlds of the Palisade, turning their atmospheres superheated, creating a barrier that these faceless shadows can’t penetrate.”

Even before he finished there was an uproar. Voices screaming about his plan, aghast at sacrificing dozens of worlds to be rendered uninhabitable. Many roared obscenities at him, but unperturbed he defended himself. “We’re already destroying dozens of worlds trying to slow them, what’s the difference now if we can stop them?”

Karpali got up and left the assembly. There was too much arguing, and lack of decisions being made. He had work to do. He was sure his theory was correct, that it was the new bridges that were allowing the faceless to move from world to world. He needed to test his theory.

But then, what if he was right? What then could he do to stop it? He left the council building and took an airlift back to his lab.


Consul Arsul found him there later that night. The military man seemed out of place among the gray frocked researchers. Karpali was annoyed at his sudden arrival, but made time for one of the warrior caste.

“Are you hungry?” he asked the Consul.

“I’m fine,” the Archon said. Karpali couldn’t help but stare at the cybernetic limbs. His lower body and arms had long ago been replaced, victims of a battle a hundred years before. The consul had embraced the machines, and even now had one cyborg eye and a cyborg heart. His detractors mocked him by saying the Consul would one day replace everything until nothing was left but a machine.

“I came to talk to you about my plan.”

“I heard part of it,” Karpali said. “I left before it got violent.”

Arsul’s gaze remained steady. “They are all just frightened Gnabbas,” he said with pure loathing for the politicians. “They argue and talk while we face down annihilation. My plan is the only one and it will work.”

“Your plan involves rendering nearly a hundred worlds uninhabitable. Some of the richest in resources. Not to mention home to billions-“

“Billions who will become part of this horse if we do not stop them.”

Karpali shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “There may be another way. I have a theory about how they can travel between worlds even after we destroy the starbridges. I believe the subspace tunnel doesn’t collapse after deactivation. If I’m right, we just need to find a way to collapse them.”

“And how long will this take?”

“I don’t know,” Karpali said. “I still need to test my theory.”

“And how many worlds will we lose in the meantime? How long until they pour into the old worlds?”

Karpali like didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“Support my plan,” Arsul continued. “It’s the only one we have that will work.”

“There’s no guarantee it will.”

But Arsul was having none of it. “And what if yours proves true and you find a way to fix all this? The fools in the council can’t make a decision. They won’t believe you and by time they do it’ll be too late. My plan can be enacted now with enough support.”

“Find it somewhere else. I won’t support the mass destruction of a hundred worlds.”

Arsul hissed in resignation. He stood up. “The council will act too slowly. By time they’re ready to do things it’ll be over. For all of us.”

Arsul’s words proved prophetic. When he presented his theory to the council they didn’t want to hear it. The idea that the Starbridges were the cause of the faceless was preposterous to them. And his idea to collapse these tunnels was thrown out as wild theorizing.

Within a year the faceless arrived in the palisades. Within six months they had been overrun and the horde entered the old worlds. It was only then that the council acted, but it was too late. Karpali provided them with a solution, by now the only one left.

The day of the mission to detonate the subspace bomb he learned of Archaeus' fate. Arsul had built his doom engines. The council had ignored him, and he had them built in secret, claiming they were shelters that would save people when the faceless came. He had activated them and within minutes Archaeus’s atmosphere was on fire.

Karpali boarded the ship to take him into space, realizing his wife and the pup he’d never met were now dead. A rage grew in him as he wished he could find Arsul one day and kill him. He would eventually get the chance.
 
ASHES
Xibalba - Clint Mansell


The ground felt weird under foot. Thirteen years aboard his capsule had made him forget how to walk on an uneven surface.

He made his way over cracked stones, careful to keep his balance. A fall could lead to his environment suit getting punctured. The air was breathable, but the toxins in it would build up over time. And he didn’t want a chronic respiratory problem.

He adjusted the airflow, giving him a boost of oxygen to counteract the fatigue of the heavier gravity of his capsule. He continued to make his climb up the volcanic ground, away from the flat lava plain he’d landed on.

Towering above him was the structure the sensors had spotted from space. A great crystalline tower piercing high into the sky, the base structures around it half buried in an ancient lava flow. The lava had curved up and over it, an ancient energy field protecting the structure. The shield had been turned off, probably a long time ago, as no crackle of energy could be heard over the low hiss of wind through broken rocks.

The climb up took him most the day. The sun was falling low in the sky behind him when he arrived at the scarred walls. Pocks and divets had eroded into the crystalline surface. He had to make his way along it, around to the side opposite from his approach, to find an entrance.

Ash and volcanic rubble littered the old street ways between buildings. Peering inside a window showed him nothing but burnt out furniture. No one had passed this way in a long time.

And yet he felt a presence, like eyes peering at him. He continued on, but the feeling of unease grew. He made his way to the base of the tower. A wide staircase ran up to a closed amber colored doorway, and two figures stood guard to either side.

He came to a halt, shocked to see anyone. But the figures did not move, standing eerily still in the fading light. He worked up his courage and made his way up the stairs, his gaze intent on the figures. But as he got closer he saw that they were mechanical figures, robots placed to guard the door long ago.

But they were not completely lifeless. The eyes of one, a mechanical disc with a gray dot in the center, tracked his movement as he approached. From the other a clicking could be heard and he saw that the gears in its arms were trying to turn, to raise the hand up, but they had ground out.

When he reached the step right below the robot guardians, a crackle came from one. “Halt,” the robot said in a feelingless robotic voice. “State your purpose.”

“I am Karpali, Head Researcher for the Cooperative. I am here under the authority of the Omnipote.”

The robot's eyes flickered back and forth from the Archon to the ruined city around them. “That is difficult to process,” it said. “This facility is closed. Permanently.”

“I need access to the interior,” Karpali informed the robot.

“I cannot comply. This door has been ordered sealed forever.”

The Archon nodded. He’d known that was the case. “By order of the Omnipote’s office, special order 6, closure is temporarily revoked. As representative, I demand unrestricted access.”

The robot clicked and whirred as the order was processed. Finally it asked for a verification code, which Karpali happily complied and gave.

The robot thanked him, but as it attempted to lift its arm to open the door, the gears in its arms ground heavily. It could not move. “Unfortunately,” the thing said, “I can not move to comply.”

“That’s alright,” Karpali answered. “I’ll manual move your arm.”

It took a bit of pushing and twisting, but he brought the robot's hand up and pressed it against the doors access port. He worried that either the accessor on the tops of the robots fingers, or the reader pad on the door, might have worn out. But when he touched the two together the door made a satisfying clang and then swung open.

He entered inside. He was in a large chamber and at the far end another identical door. The pipes running into the chamber let him know it was a decontamination room. And from the lack of dust he suspected the machinery still worked. He pulled the outer door shut and was satisfied when a dull blue light came on.

A mist pored out through the pipes, filling the room. He held out his arms, standing still and let the mist envelope him. It was then sucked up into other pipes and then the inner door opened.

The facility within the tower was completely intact. Lights came on as he entered, screens flickered to life. The automated machinery wound up and began working again. He checked environmental readings and saw that the air was clean and fully breathable.

He removed his suit and found a computer. He logged in with his access codes and began searching for what he was looking for. The archives were still complete and it didn’t take him long to find the information.

It also activated the facility's AI. “Hello,” the pleasant voice spoke out of hidden speakers. “I am XIM-006. Welcome to the Ximballa research facility. How may I be of service?”

Karpali had no intention of dealing with the AI. He knew if it knew what he was here for, it would be intelligent enough to try and stop him.

So he entered a quick command and put the intelligence to sleep. It complied, though it attempted to keep its recording devices working. But Karpali deftly deactivated those. If anyone else came and found this facility operational, they would not know what he’d done.

It was while doing this he made a discovery. He was not the first person to have entered the facility after its shutdown. Someone else had also forced the AI into sleep, but they’d been crude in their endeavor and hadn’t covered their tracks. He checked and found that the facility had kept its recording devices operational. He downloaded those files to a portable device and then erased them.

He left the computer behind and made his way to a lift that would take him to the sub levels. As he slowly descended deep into the planet he watched the security recordings he’d transferred. He was surprised to see a single person, accompanied by two robots of their own, descend as he was now. It wasn’t hard to recognize the figure. The cybernetic legs and arms spelled out the identity. First Consul Arsul of the Helgadae garrison.

He checked the date for the recording. Nearly thirteen years ago. Arsul had come just after he detonated the subspace bomb. He watched the Consul enter the deepest, and most secure vault. Nothing was recorded inside, no device likely within; to keep the secrets of the cooperative.

Karpali had no doubt that Arsul had come for the very device that he was here for. He forwarded the recordings, but Arsul never came out. Until the moment Karpali had entered the facility, no one had left the vault.

The lift arrived at the very bottom with a clang. Only one door stood before him. He entered his code and the door opened. It was dark and quiet within. Unarmed, he stepped inside. The lights activated to his movement illuminating a large room with hundreds of storage containers stacked ceiling high.

He walked between them, listening for any noise beside his own steps. He read the labels, looking for the one he was seeking.

He found it in the middle of the floor. It’s lid had been pried open and the contents taken. But Arsul hadn’t exited, so where had he gone?

He continued to move among the stacks, peering here and there, waiting at any moment to see something move. Instead a label on a container caught his eye.

It was a large container, more like a shipping crate, a dozen paces wide and the same tall. The seal on it had been broken and it’s door ajar. He pulled it open and his eyes went wide when he saw what it was.

Inside was a Starbridge, it’s crystal still at the top of the arch waiting to be activated. There was supposed to be no active Starbridges to Ximballa. But here was one that had been left, and Arsul had used it to leave.

The Consul had taken what Karpali was after, and who knew what he intended to do with it. But he couldn’t be allowed to keep it. Karpali would have to follow, even if the trail was over thirteen years cold. He activated the bridge, hearing the familiar crackle, and stepped through.
 
ALL IS STILL AMONG THE RUINS
First Snow - Clint Mansell


The cold hit him like a slap to the face. Stepping through the bridge he came out into waist high snow. He hadn’t expected the weather and knew his environment suit wouldn’t protect him from the cold. Turning back with difficulty he looked up at the arch sticking out of the snow. No control crystal. He wouldn’t be able to go back. He was stuck here.

He peered about. Snow was all that could be seen. No trees, no buildings, only endless white. The sky overhead was clear of clouds and the sun beat down brightly. Yet in the sky we’re strange swirls of light, beams of dancing brilliance. The realization hit him. The lights were from the breach, the energy pouring out of the cracks in subspace.

He had to be on an Archon world, a central one at that. But which one? Where was there a bridge in a cold snowy region? Most bridges were placed near to the equatorial line of their respective world. He couldn’t think of any.

Someone had to be around though, right? He wouldn’t survive long in this cold. Twenty minutes? Thirty? He didn’t have time to ponder. From out of his survival pack taken from the capsule he pulled a flare dart. Popping the end plug it launched into the sky, flaring into a brilliant green.

Someone, if there was anyone around, would be able to see it. But he couldn’t stay here. A tall hill stood not far off. Perhaps he’d see something from atop it. He pushed his way through the snow, but his movement was slowed. It was too loose to climb above and it was too weighty to push away easily. But he pressed on, pushing through the snow as his temperature dropped.

He could feel the cold sapping his strength. With every push forward the hill seemed to get further away. He was already shivering uncontrollably. His knees grew weak and his efforts diminished. He knew he’d fall over soon.

As the last bit of his strength faded, and his knees buckled, he saw a dark shape crest the hill. But he couldn’t make out what it was or if it had seen him. His strength failed and he collapsed into the snow.

He didn’t know how long he was out. Everything was dark when he came to. He felt warm. His brain told him this was bad news, that a feeling of warmth premeditated death. He tried to struggle upright but something weighed him down. He began to panic, thrashing out. Then a cool hand was placed on his forehead and a soft voice told him to rest. “Everything’s alright,” the voice said. In his delirious state he believed it to be the voice of his Wyomna. But it calmed him and he felt back into a dark dreamless sleep.

It was some time before he woke again. This time he was conscious of his surroundings. A dim lamp cast flickering shadows across cold gray walls. Pictures hung on the wall, and the only window he could see had been boarded up.

He looked around the room but saw no one. A single door led out, but a thick curtain blocked it. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and immediately felt dizzy. He thought he’d managed to hold himself up, but when his head cleared he found he’d fallen face first off the bed onto the floor.

Someone was helping him up, lifting him back into the bed.

“Who are you? Where am I?” he managed to ask, his voice weak.

The person that helped him up spoke to him but he was unable to understand what they said. He knew they were speaking clearly, but his brain couldn’t comprehend. Only one word passed through the fog now filling his mind; Tamaraes.


It was a mother and her teenage son who had rescued him, bringing him to their home in the snow covered remains of an old government building. They had claimed the place as they were forced to migrate south as the planet got colder. They’d seen his flair while out hunting and had drug him half frozen to their shelter.

The mother’s name was Yet, and her son was Iztar. Karpali wasn’t bedridden for long and was soon up helping them around their home. They had turned a set of offices on the upper floor of a municipal building into an apartment suite, but now the snow was beginning to pile up against the upper floor windows.

Karpali asked them when the snow had started falling. “Nearly ten years ago,” Yet answered. She spoke about the great cataclysmic event that had started it all (Karpali didn’t tell him it was his bomb that did it), that many of the starbridges exploded and caused environmental upheavals. Earthquakes, hurricanes, firestorms, and then eventually after a few years of severe environmental change, the snow began to fall. And it didn’t stop for nearly five years. The planet grew colder and colder with every year.

“Eventually it will get too cold for anyone to survive,” Iztar mused in the brusk nihilism that only youths were capable of.

“And you haven’t tried to leave?” he asked. “Surely there are still some bridges still working.”

“And go where?” Yet countered. “The story is the same everywhere. The air on Harklaedus has turned to poison. Earthquakes have shattered Kolonae. Great fires tear apart Archaeus. We’d heard there are survivors on Ithycar, but the bridge there cracked and crumbled a decade ago. How likely is it anyone is still left there.”

Karpali said nothing, and hid his true feelings. All of this suffering was his fault. He should have found another way to defeat the faceless. But deep down, he knew that there had been no other way. Time had run out.

He spent the next few days with them recovering from nearly freezing to death. He came to learn that both of them were sick, different symptoms that had been going on for the last few years. He took the time to examine them. His initial examination found nothing, but there was a fully stocked infirmary in the lower levels of the building. It hadn’t yet been destroyed by the built up snow breaking through the lower windows, so he was able to retrieve some equipment. He took blood samples.

It didn’t take him long to confirm what he feared would happen to any survivors within proximity to the subspace wound. Their DNA was breaking down. The energy that was spilling out into real space was doing things to their genetic code he couldn’t even begin to understand. And now to mine as well, he thought. It would continue to manifest as degenerative diseases and mutations as time went on.

One evening after they ate he asked if they’d seen a cyborg, accompanied by two robots, pass through. “It would have been about seven years ago,” he said.

He didn’t expect an answer, and neither of them had. They’d seen fewer and fewer people as every year passed. Even now they weren’t sure there were any other Archons left on Tamaraes. Karpali nodded his head and took another bite of food. Arsul had claimed the device he’d hoped to use to mitigate some of the effects of the subspace tear, and now the trail had gone cold.

“I did see a broken robot when we scavenged from the police station,” Iztar said. “It didn’t look like any robot I’d ever seen.

Karpali asked him to describe it and the description perfectly fit the robots that he’d seen accompanying the consul into the depths of Ximballa. They left for the police station the next morning. The building had been covered in snow. Karpali thought it was only a hill, but Iztar recognized the location even under the snow.

It didn’t take them long to melt a tunnel down into the building. The windows had broken and snow was creeping into the hallways, but the place was still traversable. Iztar led the way to where he’d seen the robot. It was located in the grand rotunda, with six starbridges arranged in a circle around the room.

It was still there laying on the floor. A thin layer of frost covered it and the floor. Karpali examined it and knew it was Arsul’s robots, one of his personal combat models. There was no sign of damage on the outside, but when Karpali opened its chestplate, he saw that its power core had been removed. Arsul had needed to power something.

When he saw that it was missing he began to check the starbridges. The control crystals had been removed from all but one, and when he saw it he knew why. The crystals had all been burned out, likely during the surge following the detonation of the subspace bomb.

A discarded device lay next to the bridge with a crystal. The device was unlike anything Karpali had seen before, but he was able to deduce its function. Arsul had used it to reshape the control crystals and form them into a new one. Instead of the precision crystal made to power a bridge, he’d created a generic one. The powercell had been used to generate the energy needed for the task. He’d hacked a solution off the planet.

Karpali checked the markings on the starbridge. Helgadae. Arsul was returning to the installation that the cooperative had assigned him. He couldn’t begin to reason out what was there that Arsul needed, but he was determined to continue his pursuit. His investigation had revealed one more bit of information.

“The arch is cracked,” he told Yet and Iztar. “If I activate the crystal it will likely burn the bridge out very quickly. So there’s only one shot at this. I intend to go, I want you to come with me. As you said, the planet is getting colder. Eventually it’ll probably be too cold for you to even survive. I can’t guarantee your safety if you come with me, but if you stay I know for sure you’ll die.”

They agreed to go. They first returned to their home and gathered supplies, before returning. Karpali took the time to study Arsul’s device, amazed at how it worked. He recorded the specs into his personal device. Maybe one day he would need it himself.

When they were all ready, Karpali activated the gate and as soon as it was powered up, all three stepped through.
 
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WHERE THIS ROAD LEADS
Finish It - Clint Mansell


Helgadae was cold and quiet. It didn’t take Karpali much to know, like the rest of the Cooperative, this world was also a tomb. The machinery was still powered on, but it seemed to be in idle mode. He connected to the mainframe and read the records.

“Hello, I am HEL-929, this facility’s artificial facilitator. How may I be of help?” the AI greeted him. Karpali dismissed the AI and set it to stand by mode.

The cooperative had sealed off many parts of the facility, shut down important systems, and then ordered an evacuation. They’d completely scrubbed the surface clean of all life in preparation for an invasion. After that the records showed a large force of faceless passing from one gate to another. He checked the destination. Archaeus. And the time was mere minutes before Arsul had set off his doom engines. It led to a revelation, the Cooperative had backed Arsul’s plan at the last moment.

He nearly lost his temper, realizing what they had done to his Wyomna. Even as he prepared to set off his bomb. But anger was useless now. What mattered was that Arsul had stolen an important device off Ximballa and had unknown plans for it.

The logs didn’t show where Arsul went. Nor was there a log for his arrival. The log showed no activity after the faceless had left. But Karpali could tell they had been doctored. Someone had come here, went into the facility’s depths, and then came back out. They’d made a loop of previous status recordings so it looked like no one had passed through, but Karpali could see the seams in the loop.

He was able to trace their route through the facility by which sensor’s data had been looped. He finished by hacking into the secured data and retrieving the passcodes. He then led Yet and Iztar down winding hallways and numerous lifts, until he came to the genetics labs.

The facility was free of dust, its air scrubbers filtering out all particles, so he wasn’t sure if anything in the labs had been touched. Yet called for his attention to a glass case that had its door open. Nothing was inside. Karpali checked the logs and it showed that the case should have been full of hundreds of genetic samples. He downloaded the data to his pad, not liking what he’d seen among the cataloged samples.

Hey returned back to the room where the starbridges were, retracing their steps. He knew Arsul had returned the same way and then left, but to what world had he gone? There’d be no way to know. But a sinking suspicion was beginning to enter the back of his mind.

Back at the archways Yet and Iztar looked at him expectantly, wondering where they’d go next. He took his time to think it over. If he was right, then taking them with him would be dangerous. He couldn’t leave them here either. There was no access to food or the means of producing it, so they would die. He couldn’t send them elsewhere as he had no idea the status of any other world. He’d been lucky so far that he’d used bridges that took him to worlds still somewhat habitable. Even his next step could be a false one.

“There was a large government facility on Khodes,” he told them. “Whoever took those samples probably went there.”

Yet looked at him suspiciously. “How can you be sure?”

“Because they took something else from another lab. And the only place they could get the power to run it is from the massive fusion reactors on Khodes.” He sighed. It was time to tell them more of the truth. “The man I’m following, I think he’s planning to use it to destroy all life on any remaining Cooperative worlds that might have survived in some sort of perverse plan to stop the faceless. Destroy everything and the faceless can’t spread.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Iztar said. “Let’s go stop him.”

“Because he has an army of robots ready to defend him. They’ll probably kill on sight. And I don’t know how I’ll stop him. I can’t bring you into that situation.”

Yet was more aware of the situation then he thought she was. “We can’t stay here though, can we? And any of these starbridges could lead us to certain doom anyway?” And with that they both chose to follow him, no matter the outcome.
 
BEFORE WE PASS INTO OBLIVION
Death is the Road to Awe - Clint Mansell


He was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. His face smacked hard against the cracked tiles. He didn’t move, wishing only for a respite.

“That you and I should meet after the end of everything,” a mocking voice spoke. Even though it was mechanical now he still recognized the owner.

With great effort he pushed himself up into a kneeling position. The form towering over him was imposing, a true marvel of robotics. A war machine without equal.

“So have you finally transcendended mortality and made yourself fully artificial, Consul Arsul?” And he laughed, not trying to hide his contempt. “Replaced that dull plodding mind with an unemotional calculating one? Cold, like your heart?”

“Strong words from the one who made our final doom,” Arsul’s robotic body answered. “How many of us are dead because of your weapon compared to the sacrifices I demanded?”

Karpali just shrugged. “I guess we’re both mass murderers. But we’re even bigger failures.”

Arsul made no comment, his robotic eyes continuing to stare at him as if calculating what best to do with the former head researcher of the central authority. It made no difference to Karpali. All around him were the dead and broken of his last ditch effort to stop Arsul. The last Archon survivors of Khodes, butchered in a futile assault.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked the Arsul robot. “I know what you took off Ximballa, I know what it’s capable of. Do you intend to destroy everything that is left of us?”

“I intend to purify our homes,” he answered.

Karpali laughed again. “Purify? There’s nothing left. It’s all dead or dying.”

“I will rid us of the faceless. We will have our homes back.” The voice from the robot seemed louder, as if in anger.

Karpali pointed at all the dead Archons laying about the floors. Arsul’s machines were already gathering up the corpses and beginning clean up. “You killed all these survivors. There aren’t any of us left.”

“There will be others.”

“No there won’t.” Karpali said it with such assuring it even surprised himself. But he knew it was true. “That great wound I created, the energies coming from it has already done irreparable damage to us. We will die out slowly, mutated and broken shadows of what we once were.”

“I will save us,” Arsul answered, but Karpali didn’t hear assuring in the voice, merely the demented ravings of a mad petulant child. How far they had both fallen.

A robot passed by, carrying a lifeless corpse, and Karpali recognized the wrinkled face of Yet. He closed his eyes knowing he had led her here. “After you connect the device to the bridges, activated whatever’s left of the network, and destroyed all life with fire, what will you do next? When the faceless are gone, and all the archons, and all organic life, how will you save us?”

“I will recreate life on all our worlds.”

“How?” Karpali asked, but then he remembered the genetic samples that Arsul had retrieved from Helgadae. “No,” he said as it sunk in. “That will be an abomination. A mockery of life.”

“But it will be life,” Arsul said. “And eventually I will shape it into something new.”

“That’s why you became a machine, to extend your life.” The extent of Arsul’s plan was now laid bare. “There’s another way,” he pleaded.

“Another bomb?” Arsul asked mockingly. “No, I think we’ll go with my plan this time.”

He raised his arm, pointing a terrible looking weapon at him. Karpali closed his eyes, awaiting death. There was a great commotion, the ground began to tremble. Then the floor seemed to rise up as if something was pushing up from underground, and then it sunk back and everything crumbled around them.


“It worked.”

The strained face of Iztar said, dragging Karpali away from the ruins of the facility. He said nothing to the boy, still dazed. He had not expected to survive.

“The distraction worked,” Iztar continued. “We set the explosives and took out his whole robot factory.”

“Your mother…” Karpali began to say.

“She did her part,” Iztar said, his face contorted in pride and pain. “We won. Three years and we finally won.”

Karpali, now recovered enough to walk without the boys help, struggled on and said nothing.


The reactors were brought up to max power. With Arsul’s robots disabled the last few survivors were able to walk in and take over.

The consul had been stockpiling supplies for his plan, but Karpali ignored them all. He had another goal. The machine taken from Ximballa awaited. It didn’t take him long to connect it to the reactors.

“What does it do?” Iztar asked.

“It manipulates energy fields over vast distances,” Karpali explained. “It can in theory cause a planet to build up enough pressure that it’ll cook itself within its own atmosphere.” He didn’t say it to the boy, but that is what had happened on Ximballa. “That was Arsul’s plan, burn everything, including the faceless, and start again.”

“What will you do with it?”

“Stabilize that,” he said, pointing out a window at the unending mass of swirling lights which permitted the sky.

“You can fix everything?”

“No. But I can make it where life can survive within. In one form or another.” He gave the boy a reassuring smile. “Something good should come out of this. Perhaps, if it’s not too late, even our kind can survive.” But in his heart, he knew that wouldn’t be the case.

“Arsul did most the work, reactivating the bridges and forming a network. When the machine activates it’ll connect through them all and create a big enough bubble to stabilize the subspace energies.”

They connected it to an archway and once the power was at full, Karpali activated the machine. He imagined all the many bridges that were connected lighting up, the energy from the device building off the planet's energies. He imagined that the chaotic cloud began to stabilize. There would come an equilibrium. He could only imagine because all he could see was a machine pointed at an archway. He hoped it would work.

A warning chime sounded. Iztar peered at the readout. “That’s strange,” he said. “There appears to be a build up of energy in the reactor. I think there’s feedback from the machine.”

Even as Karpali turned to check himself it was already too late. The reactors went critical. An explosion disintegrated the entire facility. The only sensation Karpali felt was a blinding flash of white, and then…a cold darkness.
 
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FAITH AND HOPE
Together We Will Live Forever - Clint Mansell


Karpali floated in nothingness. He felt nothing. He could see nothing. Is this death? The thought didn’t startle him as much as he thought it would. After all his losses, all his struggles, to just float forever. He could accept that.

YOU ARE NOT DEAD.

At first he believed it to be his own thoughts raging against his fate. But it was said with such authority and force. Could he even muster that kind of willpower anymore?

“I’m okay with being dead,” he whispered.

YOU HAVE PIQUED MY CURIOSITY. YOUR DEVICE ALLOWED ME TO REACH OUT TO YOUR UNIVERSE. SO I SAVED YOU.

It wasn’t his own thoughts. It was a voice that was inside his head. But also outside his head. It was all around him.

DO NOT STRUGGLE. I WISH ONLY TO CONVERSE.

The words, they weren’t words. His mind was rendering it as speech, but no one was speaking. He was being spoken to, but not in words. Thoughts, concepts, intents. That was what it was.

“Who are you?” Karpali asked.

I AM ALL.

The answer sent chills down his spine, the idea terrified him.

BE NOT AFRAID.

“Are you god?”

NO.

A practical and matter of fact answer. But would god say he was god? Would god know he was god?

“I don’t understand.” It was a defeated statement.

I EXIST BEYOND. WHAT YOU CALL ‘SUBSPACE’.

“You exist in subspace?”

I AM SUBSPACE.

The answer left Karpali speechless. How could it be possible? The possibility was impossible to imagine. All their studies had never shown any hint at it. Subspace was merely a universe outside their own with its own rules, it’s own physics. They could bend and warp it as to travel from place to place, tap its energy for their needs, but that it was alive wasn’t possible.

YOUR INTRUSION AWOKE ME TO YOUR EXISTENCE. FOR LIFE TO EXIST AS YOURS DOES IS UNFATHOMABLE TO ME.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

I DID WHAT I COULD TO DEFEND MYSELF. I SENT OUT FORCES TO PURGE YOUR UNIVERSE. TO CONVERT IT TO BE SIMILAR TO ME. YET YOU RESIST. YOU HAVE WOUNDED ME AND I CANNOT HEAL IT. WHY?

“Because we want to live, too.”

BUT THE ENERGIES LEAKING THROUGH THE WOUND WILL POISON YOUR REALITY. YOU WILL DIE ANYWAY.

“It wasn’t intentional. I was just trying to collapse the subspace tunnels.”

YOU WERE TRYING TO UNDO YOUR ATTACK AGAINST ME?

“It wasn’t an attack. We didn’t know you were alive.”

The consciousness pondered the revelation. Thoughts flowed through Karpali’s head. It overwhelmed him. He couldn’t fight back and it threatened to destroy his mind. The consciousness realized what it was doing and pulled back it’s thoughts.

“If we had known what our bridges were doing we would have never used them,” Karpali pleaded, hoping to convince the consciousness of the truth. Perhaps together they could undo what had been done.

THERE IS NO GOING BACK.

Karpali nearly wept at the finality of the statement. Could the consciousness not comprehend, empathize with them? But he felt it’s thoughts soften towards Karpali as he wondered these thing.

I UNDERSTAND. ALL IS NOT LOST. I WILL NO LONGER SEEK TO DESTROY YOUR UNIVERSE UNLESS YOU SEEK TO HARM MINE. BUT KNOW THAT I CANNOT RETRIEVE MY CREATIONS AND SHOULD THEY ESCAPE THEIR PRISON THEY WILL ONCE AGAIN TRY TO ACHIEVE THE GOAL I CREATED THEM FOR.

Despite the consciousness’s warnings about the faceless, Karpali felt a real sense of gratitude that this mighty being was capable of forgiveness.

I WILL SEND YOU BACK. BUT MUCH TIME WILL HAVE PASSED FOR YOU. PERHAPS WE WILL MEET AGAIN THOUGH I DOUBT WE WILL. THERE MAY YET COME A TIME WHERE I CHOOSE ONCE AGAIN TO TURN MY THOUGHTS BACK TO YOUR UNIVERSE. GOODBYE, ARCHON.

Karpali once again saw a blinding flash and the darkness faded away and he felt the beings consciousness pull back into a distance he couldn’t even fathom. And then he was alone.


There was warm water lapping at his ankles. Light shone down on him once again. Behind him a Starbridge arch stood. It’s top had cracked and would never work again.

The lights of the maelstrom danced dimly across the daytime sky. He wondered what planet it was but couldn’t tell. Great stalks of horsetail rose all around him towering like trees. All was unfamiliar.

Something splashed in the water nearby. He saw movement among the stalks and then a family of beasts came into view, staring at him with intelligence and curiosity.

He recognized their forms. Mighty horns, hooves rear legs but fingered hands on their front legs. They were larger than any he’d seen but their forms were unmistakable.

“Prondaurs,” he said, amused that if all the things to survive the cataclysm it would be house pets. “Why not?” he mused aloud. “Of all that should survive, our trusted companions are the most deserving.”

The Prondaurs followed him for some time as he left behind the shallow pools. He climbed atop a hill finding the crumbling ruins of an old building. Three Starbridge arches stood among them. Their crystals were missing and the lettering to tell their destination had been worn away by time.

He set up a camp among the ruins, foraging for food. The Prondaurs would come check on him, watch him, but never approached to close.

The Maelstrom blocked the stars so he couldn’t tell how long he’d been with the consciousness. But from the state of the ruins it had been a very long time.

He made a life for himself though often wondered about his own people and their fate. He searched far and wide for other signs of them. He found many ruins, most overgrown. The years passed in isolation, the Wild Prondaurs his only companions. One day he found a Starbridge with its crystal still in the top. He couldn’t read the inscription. Hesitating only for a little bit, he eventually activated it and stepped through.

He came to Ithycar and found ruins in better condition. He discovered he’d been living on Atasha, a rural planet before the cataclysm. It’s ecosystem had changed dramatically since. Ithycar, once a beautiful garden world, was now dry and barren.

There he also found the remains of many Archons. They were deformed and strange, likely caused by the maelstrom’s energy over a few generations. He found none living.

What he did find was a cache of starbridge crystals, probably taken by the Archons in their retreat. They were well preserved. He could read the markings for which bridge they belonged to. He checked many of the bridges. Most were dead. Some activated. He tried a few finding the worlds changed beyond recognition.

Arriving on Harklaedus he nearly choked to death on toxic fumes, but managed to replace the crystal and come back. After that he was more cautious, lest he end up on a dead world or one without an atmosphere.

The machine that Arsul had stolen from Ximballla must have done
It’s work and stabilized many planets. But nowhere he went did he find any survivors. Only their bones remained. But he was able to estimate how long he had been with the consciousness beyond. Some twenty to thirty thousand had passed.

Eventually he returned to Atasha and chose to stay there for good. The Prondaurs gave him company and the longer he stayed the more friendly they became. He found them more intelligent than expected. They were beginning to use tools and the sounds they made could be the beginnings of a proto-language.

“Perhaps in time you’ll evolve into sapience,” Karpali said to a young Prondaur that he was scratching behind the ear. “Wouldn’t that be something. One day you might even discover our ruins and wonder who we were, what we were like.”

He fell silent for awhile, thinking about all he’d lost. And the cost of it all. “Hopefully you’ll escape the same fate we did. And if the Faceless return you’ll find a way to beat them. Hopefully.”

That was all he could do. Hope. Because he would be long dead before the Prondaur evolved to that point. If they ever did at all. But at least he’d spend his last days in relative peace. The last survivor of a long dead society. And he was content with that. He watched the swirling lights of the maelstrom in the sky as the Prondaur snuggled against him. He smiled and scratched its ear.

The End​
 
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