Cosmic Savior: (A Space Opera Adventure) (Interstellar Gunrunner Book 3), page 30
“The task will be fulfilled.”
Then the Maker fell silent, shutting his eyes and bowing his head in reverence to… something.
What could I do in the face of such a winding, overwhelming tale? In the face of millions of years of history that had just been dropped into my lap by a near-immortal being, no less?
I laughed.
It was a spontaneous and nervous expression; one that I instantly wished I could bottle back up.
The Maker’s eyes flared with cerulean light. “Do you think this is a child’s plaything, Bodhi? This is the fate of reality itself.”
That was enough to shut me up.
Wiping away a few unbidden tears of amusement, I said, “What exactly do you need me to do?”
The Maker lifted one hand and turned it palm-side up. He then conjured a purple orb within it, complete with a diamond at the center—a not-to-scale model of the Untraversed, I realized. “Do you know why I constructed this field?”
“To keep Kruthara out?” I asked, praying he wouldn’t zap me with lightning for my too-obvious reply.
“Yes, but it was not the sum of my aims.” The Untraversed’s model began expanding in his palm, eventually spilling over into the space between us, then around us. “My mind is powerful, but it is not the summation of the infinite. The field is a projection of my consciousness… an act of will manifesting as matter.”
“And you want to teach me that?”
“I aspire to complete my task. You see, this field is crude. At the time of my retreat into this complex, it spanned millions of light-years. All of my people lived within it, sheltered from Kruthara’s ravages. But time has worn down its influence.” Little by little, the purple model retracted back into his palm. “The death of this body draws near. At this moment, my mind must choose between preserving the field… and my flesh. You have seen the outer edge of the field. You know that it has shrunken from its former glory, and it will continue to shrink. The end of this body means the dispersion of this mind… which, in turn, means the dissolution of this field.”
The scale model in his palm dissipated.
Reflecting on the Maker’s point, it suddenly made sense why aspirants and raiders alike had failed to locate his tomb (which I now realized was not a tomb, but a glorified hermit’s hut). It wasn’t just the inherent danger of the creatures within the Untraversed—it was the fact that the Untraversed itself had grown increasingly smaller since his disappearance. Any astral chart that had pinned down its location had eventually become worthless. It was a fading field in a vast, ever-growing ocean.
“Okay,” I said slowly, “but what exactly is my role in this?”
“Have patience, my friend. You must understand that this field was not intended to be a permanent solution to the scourge. It was, at best, a demonstration of my limited power. Not even my greatest chittas could summon the willpower to do what needed doing.”
“Which was?”
“I did not seek to merely expel Kruthara,” the Maker said. “I sought to destroy it in a flash.”
“A flash?” I squinted at him, skeptical. “I don’t know how it looked the last time you were out there, but things have gone downhill with round two. It’s spread all over the place. You can’t exactly drop a bifurcation burst-shell on its head and be done with it.”
“Stop thinking in material terms. It will only confound you.” He straightened further, staring directly at me. “Kruthara is not a physical being. It manifests in physical space, but it, in itself, is not of the physical world. It is like air appearing as fog.”
“Technically, that’s water vapor.”
The Maker’s glare stopped me from further damage. “Your mind cannot grasp its nature. I am confined to using metaphors. All you must know, Bodhi, is that what you see of Kruthara is not its entire body. These are its roots, stretching into our world. Its true body is beyond this reality. And that body… its true body… can be destroyed. But we must use techniques that have been lost to time.”
“Go on…”
“As you have heard, this field was not my ultimate goal. It was merely the best I could summon at that point in time. In order to end Kruthara, both on this plane and in its native realm, we must channel the field’s energy through dimensions.”
“We must what?”
“You are familiar with radio frequencies. Apply the same logic. If Kruthara is to be vanquished, we must alter the frequency of the field.”
“By alter, you mean change it to… one that vibrates with Kruthara’s dimension?”
“Precisely. Here, in our world, my influence is limited by power and distance. But in its realm, there is no space, no matter. One burst of conscious energy could dispel it at the source.”
“Right. So we fire off a mind-pulse, which will kill Kruthara in its own dimension, which means it will also die in this dimension… I think?”
He nodded. “Now I shall explain your role.”
“Is it easy?”
“It is necessary,” he snapped. “Even as we speak, my time draws near. There are no coincidences, no happenstances of fate. In a matter of minutes, this form will be lost to the ether. And when my body-mind perishes, another must take its place. Whoever inherits my position will also inherit my wisdom, just as I have inherited the wisdom of those who came before me. Through this, and this alone, it will be possible to overcome Kruthara.”
I nodded, nodded, and nodded… then stopped. “Wait… you want me to become you? Now?”
“You will not be anything, merely an action. A force.”
“Why me?”
“Because my body-mind is not sufficient. It may be potent, but it is fading and tainted with malice. A being with a pure body-mind must seize this energy and utilize it.”
“No, you don’t understand… why me? There are a trillion other people out there. People with far ‘purer’ minds and bodies, let me tell you.”
“You are afraid to die.”
I blinked at him, scrambling for a reply, only to realize he was right. This was the endgame. The one tried-and-true way we’d be able to win this. One merge with the infinite, one pulse of energy, and Kruthara would never take a life again. That was the outcome I’d been after from the start. All along, I’d told myself I would do anything—even die—to see it happen. But here, now, hearing it so bluntly… it struck a chord that made me recoil.
What if I’d been wrong about Kruthara being after Chaska? What if Kruthara had somehow known that I was the chosen one, and had been chasing after little old me this whole time? Every death, every invasion… all for me?
The thought made my skin crawl.
“What about the maitreyans?” I whispered. “I mean, they’re enlightened or whatever, right? A whole species of ’em! They could get it done lickety-split!”
“I have seen the strands of fate, Bodhi. Do not question my judgment.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me? That’d muck up your plans, wouldn’t it?”
“Do not be afraid. That which you are cannot die.”
“Wanna bet?”
“You lack insight into your true nature. You perceived it a short time ago… I can sense it… but even now, you deny it. You pretend you are a mortal creature, full of fear and regret. You have felt the everlasting peace of eternity, yet you shy away. Why?”
It was hard to think. Hard to even breathe. “Just show me a weapon schematic. Something. We can beat it using the right tools.”
“This is the only way, Bodhi.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I do. And deep within, you know it, too.”
“Nope.”
“You may hide from the truth, but you cannot evade it forever. It is inevitable.” The Maker smiled at me. “Discard that which is false. All will be revealed.”
Then the world dissolved once again, and I found myself back in that lightless pyramid. Before me, the energy core and the body within beckoned. My destiny. My tomb.
I ran like hell back to the ship.
Addendum:
If this sounds like a lot to follow, it is. Even more so when you’re the poor soul being thrust into the middle of it. In the interest of helping my dear readers follow along with the madness, here’s the skinny.
The Great Maker was just an ordinary man (clone?) who’d been born into a pretty dicey era. Slavery, war, all the rest. So Mr. Maker decided to change the game up a bit. He killed his own creator, took the guy’s name, and waged an epic war for justice that ended up killing many, many, many people. After all was said and done, Mr. Maker wasn’t happy with the outcome. He’d created a universal empire, but at what cost? A bunch of pissed-off constituents, battle-scarred galaxies, and one huge problem for future space-dwellers—Kruthara, that is.
Mr. Maker’s oddball solution was to become a meditating hermit that could find a newer, better way to “fix the universe.” And after plenty of introspection (and maybe a few psychotropic drugs), he found the answer: inner peace. Corny, I know. But bear with me.
Mr. Maker also discovered that the Untraversed, his personal bubble to keep Kruthara out, wasn’t enough. He needed more juice in the engine for a killing blow. And that “juice,” as it were, would come in the form of a chosen one (read: me). This chosen one needed to take over his spot in the pyramid-energy-generator-thing, allowing them to unleash some kind of shock wave that would kill Kruthara in both its own dimension and, crucially, in ours.
And as if that weren’t bad enough, Mr. Maker was also on the verge of death. Like, immediate death. Meaning my own end was just over the horizon.
Am I writing this entire memoir from within the Untraversed’s eternal sphere? Am I a formless spirit wandering the cosmos? Am I God?
Keep reading. It’ll make sense. Sort of.
Nineteen
By the time Chaska’s voice crackled through the helmet’s radio, my heart was hammering so hard I could barely hear it. What she said made me wish I hadn’t heard it at all.
“… here. I’m picking up six, maybe seven flagships. Those turrets aren’t gonna last long against that!”
“Hang tight,” I huffed back. “I’m… almost… there.”
It didn’t take a genius like me to understand what was going down. The Hegemony had finally caught up with us, and they’d brought the big guns. Big enough to hear through my helmet’s dampeners. Big enough to feel as they jostled the ground beneath me.
Squeezing through the final ring of columns, I found my compatriots assembled near the ship’s staging bay. Chaska was in the process of doling out armor plates and weapons to the crew, entrusting Gadra with a shoulder-stabilized, anti-ship magnetic launcher that was half her height. There was no mistaking it: they all considered this their final stand. After all, nobody hands a child firepower that heavy unless they believe they’re going to die wielding it.
The nearer I jogged, the more the scene broke my heart. And that heart-breakiness wasn’t just due to the constant flashes and grumbles of high-yield explosives detonating beyond the tomb’s entrances—though that was part of it. No, what ate at me more was the fact that these were good, honest people about to suffer from my own cowardice. Loyal people. People who’d given up everything for the betterment of others.
They didn’t know about my predicament, of course, but that didn’t matter. If the Great Maker was to be believed—and I had no reason not to believe him—then this all came down to me. There was no other way out. No backup plan. Either I dissolved into the void, or everybody and everything else covered my debt of sacrifice.
“Bodhi, what the hell took you so long?” Chaska shouted as I drew up. “Those automated turrets won’t hold up forever. You find anything in there?”
Despite the sweat-induced fog building up across my faceplate, I saw the desperation in the faces around me. Even Gadra, bless her heart, had lost the sense of thrill that had carried her through most of our riskier moments. She was still clinging to that nervous smile of hers, but it didn’t fool me. The others weren’t much better. Their stares wobbled between dread and detachment, broadcasting the same realization that I’d recently (and incessantly) had to face: Death is here, and it’s coming for me.
And just like that, some hidden gears in my mind cranked forward. My course was clear. My destiny, no less. I’d go into that buzzing pillar, and I’d do whatever it took to boil Kruthara out of existence. But there was still the off chance that the Maker was wrong, and that all of this would come crashing down. If it did, I wanted them as far away as possible. The least I could offer was a head start. A running leap out of the fire.
“Listen,” I said, wheezing and panting. “You… need… to go.”
The others were swift in their protests, especially Chaska.
“There’s nowhere to go, Bodhi,” she growled. “We’re jammed up tight in this thing. Now tell us what you found. Any weapons? Paths that lead deeper inside?”
I shook my head. “You don’t… understand. I… can fix… this. But you need to… go.”
“We’re not leaving you here,” Ruena said, casually loading shells into her auto-shotgun. “And not just because we don’t trust you to finish this job.”
Gulping down air, I weighed my options. There was no way they’d believe what had really happened in that tomb. It was hard enough for me to swallow, let alone to sell to a crowd that already doubted my fanciful accounts. So I did what I did best: I lied for the greater good. “I found the schematics, alright? You need to get out of here… get someplace safe. I’ll transmit them to you, and you can beam them out across the ’verse.”
“Wait,” Chaska said, pausing briefly to allow a peal of Hegemony nuclear rounds to die down. “Schematics? You really found something?”
“Yes. There were riddles… puzzles… it was a whole thing. But you need to trust me. Just get out of here, and I’ll send them.”
“Did you bump your head in there?” Ruena asked. “The Untraversed doesn’t let anything pinch in or out, Bodhi. We’re staying.”
“You don’t get it!” I hissed. “The field’s going to drop. You need to be ready to go once it does.”
“Why would it drop?” Tusky said, still fiddling with the carbine in his arms.
I let out a sharp sigh. “You need to trust me on this. The field is going down.”
“How would you know that?” Chaska whispered.
Before I could reply, Ruena gasped and spun toward the passage we’d used to enter the tomb. I didn’t need her twosight to understand what she’d seen in that future timeline. The sprawling turret-versus-Hegemony battle outside, which had been shaded by the Untraversed’s purple haze… now was not. In a violent rush, the remnants of the Maker’s miracle field constricted inwards and past us, coiling back into the central pillar from which it had originated.
Our oxygen reserves kicked in. Exterior sounds vanished. The air turned lighter, colder. We were no longer in the Untraversed—we were in normal space. Vulnerable space. It wouldn’t take Kruthara long to pinch its vessels straight to our doorstep.
Everyone looked my way, slack-jawed.
“I’m not going to say I told you so,” I said, “but I did tell you so.”
“Can we get it back?” Ruena asked frantically.
“Perhaps it was a fail-safe mechanism,” Tusky said. “Perhaps removing the schematics caused it to—”
Chaska hefted her rifle up against her shoulder. “There’s no time to speculate. We need a plan.”
“You already have one,” I said quietly. “Pile into that ship, get clear of the battle, and pinch as far away as you can. Gad’s paintings will take you far.”
“No,” Chaska snapped. “If you’ve got the schematics, then there’s no reason to stay. Everybody leaves here. That includes you.”
I shook my head. “You need to take my word here. Please.”
“Absolutely not. If there’s something we need to know, then spit it out.”
“All you need to know is that you’ll be safe. And if you’re not… you keep running.”
“What the hell’s keeping you here?”
“Just… something I need to do,” I said, straining to look them all in the eyes. “This isn’t a goodbye. If things go exceptionally well, you can swing back for me. The Untraversed is gone… that means I can transmit a rescue order to you, and you can transmit status reports to me. Got it? You can’t afford to waste any time.”
“Bodhi, don’t be a fool,” Ruena said.
“I’m being sensible for once,” I told her. “They need you to get out of here, Ru. You’re the only one with twosight. Umzuma will need your edge to fly through that blockade.”
“Sure, I’ll do that. Once you get onboard.”
“Yeah,” Gadra piped up, “come with us! I still need to win your money at cards!”
Again, I shook my head. “I’m asking for your wholehearted trust this one time. Once. If any of you truly have my best interests at heart, you’ll pack up and go. Now.”
“What are you after, looting this place?” Chaska asked, glaring at me. “Nothing you say will keep us from dragging you on board. I’ve learned by now that the truth is the opposite of what you tell us. And that means you’re coming.”
Indeed, nothing I said would be capable of swaying my semi-beloved insurgent’s opinion. How fortunate, then, that I didn’t have to say anything at all. Because at that exact moment, right on cue for the tragicomedy that is my life, a Hegemony flagship exploded just outside the tomb. Slithering away from the carnage was an enormous, chitin-plated beast.
Chaska stared at me, wide-eyed. “Is that…”
“A World Serpent?” I cut in. “Why, yes, yes it is. And it’s the distraction you need.”
She immediately jerked her head toward the ship. “Pack it up! Let’s go! Ruena, have ’Zuma preheat those reactors. I’ll get to the godengine.”
