CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Volka marveled at the honeycomb network of stasis pods that lined the interior of his vessel. Each contained an empty husk. What had once been his crew were now scrap to be re-purposed for a fresh disciple. Absent were the typical monikers of loss. Grief and mourning were cast aside, replaced with the pride of a father upon watching his children triumph. Although unaware of the sacrifice they would be making, they had pledged their lives in service of a higher purpose. A greater good to which no mortal pursuit could compare.

Khan too seemed satisfied in the efficiency of their weapon. Ten thousand souls exchanged for one spectacular moment of dominance. An electromagnetic pulse that would cripple even the most formidable force. This crucial task had dictated every facet of the Basilica's construction: Her spherical design, the network of interconnected pylons, and the valley of stasis pods. Each element coming together to form the sacrificial altar upon which the androids had fulfilled their destiny. It was the explanation behind the twins' relentless recruiting. And, above all else, it was the key to the success of their great work.

The Basilica was still vibrating with static remnants. Rogue sparks shot between the pylons and the tangled networks of wiring crackled with abundance. Although they were now alone, that was all the brothers had ever needed. From the moment they had been gifted with the knowledge of Elyssia, their life had been granted a purpose worthy of dedicating one's life.

On the night they first encountered the man that would become their king, he was consumed in vitriolic speech. Flanked by two of his followers and with feet planted firmly on a table in one of Valaterras back-alley bars, he powerfully espoused the need for a rebellion; the need to free themselves from the tyrannical oppression that befell all manner of beings in the galaxy. However, it took only one truth to convince the young Cybel. Their eyes lit up as he described the reward of those who partook in this most important of journeys. The endless, emerald blue paradise of Elyssia. To sail eternally with those you held dear and to never again struggle under the boot of another. This was enough to change their lives forever.

Volka stared intently at his conquest. He had long dreamt of its downfall but he never imagined it would crumble under his boot. Encircled by a city of spires, a majestic tower of swirling marble stood proudly against a blanket of stars. The twins were enchanted by the architectural mastery, eager to transform the cathedral of justice into a haven for all pirate kind. Nestling their ship amongst the stained glass spires of the defenseless facility, it was as if they had already breached the gates of heaven. All obstacles had been cleared on the path to Elyssia and a victorious embrace fused the brothers as their ship set down on the hallowed ground. Although weary from their long journey, their mission was not yet complete.

Along with a contingent of Kaligan’s crew, the twins set forth into the facility. Having claimed it as their own there was no cause for destruction, only admiration of the palatial fortress that they had most graciously liberated. Iconic statues of Naval heroes past and present adorned the great halls. Marbled pillars and floors reflected the battered artificial bodies of the androids as they strode through the thoroughfares, picking off any stragglers or soldiers foolish enough to attempt a defense.

Upon reaching the city's innermost ring, they were greeted with the crystalline surface of a glass bridge.

Suspended above a vast work yard, the Cybel peered into the illuminated space below. Thousands of workers scurried across gantries and scaffolds, diligently assembling a memory that Volka watched burn decades ago. This was what the Navy had spent the last twenty years bringing to fruition. A twin of the fabled Eureka, the instrument of devastation the pirates turned against its creators. Though this vessel was beyond even Volka's most vivid recollections of that infamous construction. A titanic fortress of silver plating, the ship was accented with a golden trim that sprawled over the hull like gleaming vines. A million pinpricks of light blinked across her surface, each responsible for a unique and important function. Innumerable panoramic glass screens offered clear insight into the ship's inner workings. Layer upon layer of corridors and throughways bustled with an army of engineers and scientists, prepping their creation for her foray into the stars.

Volka looked at his brother, his diamond-encrusted smile reflecting the lights of the preparations beneath them.

"Though they do not know it, they are crafting our chariot brother. Her maiden voyage will be to the gates of heaven, and we will plot the course." Volka rested his hand on Khan's shoulder, stilling the constant tremors that plagued his twin. They watched as artisanal craftsmen painted enormous lettering onto the vessel's starboard hull.

"Ligera Vengaza" Volka tasted the prestige the words embodied, the great power present in every syllable. It would soon his. Beckoned by the violescent glow of the bridge, they proceeded on, into the heart of Naval HQ.

Seven crescent-shaped rings formed a barrier around the facility's central tower and the location of their someone. With the EMP disabling the defense mechanism, the endless churning of rings had ceased and the gate was breached with ease. They descended deep into the lower reaches of the pillar, admiring the impotent fleet that floated helplessly through the tall glass slits that functioned as windows.

After forcing their way through several discreet passageways, they uncovered the hidden penitentiary eluded to by their informant. A secret prison hidden deep within the Navy’s inner sanctum was not common knowledge, and the few that were privy to such a revelation were more than aware of its weight in credits. Although the Golgotha was built to incarcerate the galaxy’s worst, HQ was employed for those that required a more permanent disappearance.

Volka passed dozens of empty cells, gleefully approaching the endmost cage. He peered through the rusted bars at a drooping, attenuated figure; tendrils of long black hair coiled over its face and shoulders. The figure turned, ophidian eyes blinking to life, their sickly glow piercing the darkness.

“Events proceeded more swiftly than expected. I assume you are to thank for that.” A voice hissed from the shadows.

“Everyone played their part. Everyone except for you Ravias. If I'm not mistaken. Noctei had you imprisoned here for a reason, and your failure necessitated the expenditure of my crew.”

Malig grabbed the bars of his cage and pulled himself into the light. His bare torso exhibited a network of weeping sores, gifted by his captors.

“The awakened boy crippled my body. How was I to release myself? If I'd have known I would've…” Volka raised his hand, compelling his fellow Lord into silence.

“Those chosen few are a pivotal part of the great work. Without them, retrieval of the keystones would not have been possible. You of all people should know that Ravias.” He said with great reverence. Malig had been closer to the so-called 'awakened' than most ever come, and for that, he had paid dearly. His eyes sunk to the grimy, soiled floor of his cell as he was forced to recall repulsive memories he thought long repressed.

“Forgive my failure. How can I serve?” He took a knee before the twins and looked longingly for his purpose to be renewed.

“The final keystone, it is in place?”

“That treacherous slug saw that it was placed in appropriate hands. If you’ll allow me, it would be my pleasure to retrieve it.” His shackled, skeletal arms materialized from his cage. Volka looked at the man and barely recognized him. The cruelty in his eyes had almost disappeared and in its place was the plight of defeat.

“Despite your pitiful appearance and past failures, you are still of use to him. Show him you are deserved of a place in his kingdom.” As he spoke, Volka crushed Malig’s restraints in one hand, ordering Khan to take care of the cage.

Withered but still alive, Malig took his first steps beyond the limits of his prison. Although he had only spent weeks behind bars, the Navy had seen to it that years of hell were inflicted on both his body and mind.

“The Bassalark? How does she fare?” Malig croaked after the twins as they turned to leave. Volka glanced briefly back to him and then to the ground.

“Your crew still lives, residing with Lady Maldreska onboard the Siren,” Volka said, offering a morsel of hope to help soften the blow. A man's ship was more of him than he could express; rather an arm or a leg than lose a part of his soul. Bereavement would be foregone, the feelings of remorse locked away, forced to ferment into hate and resentment.

Volka activated the locator beacon in his chest, picking up the scent of the final keystone immediately. Cowering in their marbled towers, the men he sought had taken his bait with the haste of fools. Although the keystones -- stashed at major galactic hubs -- were intended to lure out the Awakened, allowing them to fall into the hands of his enemies would yield an even sweeter reward.

Returning to the tower's entrance, they boarded a hexagonal disk that functioned as the central elevator. The trio was promptly ferried to the highest reaches. Light poured into the tower through grand planes of stained glass and gave the twin's metal shells a divine glow, befitting of their perceived importance. Stepping off of the platform, the men stood before a holy remnant which forced even them into a state of humility.

The Arc of the seventh sentence. A gate through which all would-be Admirals and Captains needed to pass to be granted the most sacred of positions. A doorway to the seat of the galactic government. Gold-riddled sculptures of angelic beings beckoned the pirates to the sanctuary, each holding one of the scrolls of sentence. These scrolls contained the laws and truths by which the Navy had operated since its inception on Earth all those millennia ago. Malig spat toward the door, a symbol of all he reviled. For him, the protection of innocent life and upholding of truth were matters of perspective. Every commandment etched into the ancient monument had been desecrated by the very organization sworn to uphold them.

Kaligan’s men took their positions and placed ionic charges haphazardly against their obstacle. Without hesitation, Volka plunged the detonator into activation, eviscerating the unfortunate blasters where they stood. The Lords strolled casually through the curtain of thick smoke, climbing over the debris of the sacred arc.

The seventh guard was expecting them. Under the Admirals, they were the most elite of Naval soldiers; clad in golden armor and brandishing clawed rifles and swords inscribed with the laws they had vowed to uphold. They formed a dual-layered crescent moon formation that obscured the long table occupied by the Autocracy themselves. Malig stalked the periphery, disappearing into the shadow-soaked recesses -- provided by the equidistant pillars that held up the domed roof -- as the twins opened fire. Their mechanical bodies were immediately riddled with fearsome pincer rounds, splintering their freshly welded limbs. Without pain or fear and using the blood-tinted mist as cover, the brothers' advance was ceaseless, their overcharged plasma rifles making quick work of the two dozen guards.

Stood atop the mound of armored corpses, the Cybel twins had violated the holiest of places, the sanctum of law. Quivering shells of men cowered in their ornamented, tall backed chairs, revealing the apex of power for what it really was. A mirage that only held firm on the faith of strong men. The belief in order and justice held by ordinary people was the sole reason they had retained their rule for as long as they had. Overweight and unchallenged by hardship, they begged and pleaded for their miserable lives, mired in the flaccid inertia that true terror invariably evokes. Though suppressed technology had kept them alive well beyond their biological limits, death could only be delayed and had now arrived to claim what it was owed.

Incised into the faultless marbled table at which the oligarchy sat was an archaic star chart plotted by Earth's early astronomers. Naive and inaccurate in comparison to modern delineations, the celestial atlas remained an impressive feat, analogous to the pioneering spirit that first tempted man into the stars. Today those artisanally chiseled cavities run red with blood. Malig’s eyes were once again filled with a sadistic lust as he carved a path through his wailing prey. With a knife embedded in his esophagus, the final remnant of galactic authority choked out a gargled wheeze as his head slammed against the table.

Loud, grunted breaths escaped the cracks between Malig's mangled teeth. Volka approached the corpse occupying the central chair and relinquished the minister of the keystone that hung from his neck. No longer requiring the aid of the tracer embedded in his chest, Volka could the call, just as the awakened did. Its intangible source beckoned to what remained of his humanity, luring him closer to his eternal reward.

“What have you done!” A voice roared from behind. The Pirate-Lords turned. Their unbelieving gaze landed upon a resplendent assembly of defiance. Admiral Hail was flanked by Reagent, Salinar, and Noceti, his three most capable Captains. The flickering of their pristine ivory capes filled the smoldering entranceway. Barbed curses brewed behind tight lips and each wore an expression twisted with revulsion. Though Volka was perplexed at the method used to escape their immobile ships, having Hail witness the destruction of all he believed in was a prize unto itself.

“Admiral. How fortunate of you to arrive. Though I regret to inform you that the show has already concluded.” Volka said. Khan and Malig wore smiles of poison and disdain, eyeing the Admiral like a vagrant would a hot meal.

“You’ve destroyed everything! What will be left of the galaxy when you’re done?” Hail was already losing control. The room swelled with heat in an instant. The metal bodies of the twins shone like a lit furnace. For the others, an unbreathable mist fell heavy on gasping lungs.

Hail’s eyes opened wide. The scalding fury that had filled him was replaced with something altogether different, something cold. He heard a familiar sound, a metallic clap that came from the wrong direction. Two simultaneous gunshots, followed by the thud of falling bodies. The hiss of heated steel stung the nape of his neck and the atmosphere crept back to its artificially cooled state.

Hail scoffed and pulled out and a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

“With so many guns pointed at my face, I forgot all about the knife at my back.” The weight in his voice could have crushed a mountain.

“You knew all along. All those chances Admiral and still you let me live. You have no one to blame but yourself.” Said Noctei as she clicked a bullet into the chamber.

“You think you’re like them? These creatures.” He said, gesturing at the pirates as they stood knee-deep in death.

“No matter how much you want it, you’ll never have a home with them. These empty promises of freedom and eternity. What do they mean when spoken with a forked tongue? Nothing.” Hail looked at her through the corner of his eye. He saw through the merciless butcher she feigned to be.

“I pledged my life to the work. Eternity awaits those who serve. For all who refuse, the darkest pits of Vorhenna will swallow them whole." She shuddered as she mentioned the underworld, the very thought too sickening to think.

"You and your ilk will boil in the burning tar until the soul renders tear you into oblivion. That is the fate of those who won't heed his words.” She spoke as if hers was the only truth. The teachings passed down by the Cybel were embedded deep into her psyche, too deep for Hail to reach.

“She speaks the truth, Admiral. I have gazed upon the endless plains of suffering with my own eyes. Only through the work can we avoid suffering.” Volka explained as he cleaned the blood from the keystone. Hail didn't believe in fairy stories and was unamused by their meaningless blathering. He watched Volka turn over the artifact in his fingers. At that moment he realized something had been kept from him. A vital piece of information that had died with the men that littered this hallowed ground.

She had been called a hero. Susa Noctei had turned on her pirate brethren and saved the galaxy from the Eureka. Pardoned by the galactic government, she was rewarded with the honorable rank of Captain and control of a destroyer class vessel. Not all were so quick to forgive past misdeeds. Hail was one of the few that openly objected, branding the action an oversight of immense proportion.

Piracy’s in the bones.

A saying he knew to be true, Hail would never be fooled by the sheep's clothing. She was too far gone to be saved.

He took one last deep drag on his cigarette. Thumbing over the course leaf it was rolled in and savoring the taste on his tongue.

“So what's it gonna be?” He asked her through a cloud of fragrant smoke. The click of the trigger gave him a split second to confirm the truth.

It’s in the bones. This was Hail's final thought as the bullet tore through his skull, splintering the bone and exploding through his left eye socket. An eruption of blood and marrow ejected in a crimson mist. The Admiral was silent, not a whimper escaping his lips. His long Naval jacket careened behind him as his lumbering body toppled forward, bouncing once before resting motionless on the cold marble floor.

Volka stared at Hail’s body with an odd sense of relief. The hunter that lurked in his shadow, the demon that threatened his great work, was dead. The twins had lived in fear of their cosmic stalker for decades, never discounting the danger he represented. As far as the Navy was concerned, he was one of the few men the Cybel respected. A respect now extinguished like an old flame.

“We were beginning to worry, Noctei,” Malig said through a smug grin. Her assignment to arrest Malig and make sure the keystone remained at HQ had come to fruition. When Volka had explained her purpose, her role in the great work, she was overwhelmed with grandiose notions of self-importance. She was a pillar in their plan. A fated component of a grand prophecy. These seeds quickly grew and took root, replacing what she once was and became all she would be.

“The great work will go unimpeded. What of the others?” She replied, genuflecting with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Neraka has successfully infiltrated Terabus. Her operation proceeds as planned. Kaligan and Maldreska are handling the Hive. It is as you said, the work will go unimpeded.” Volka smiled as he spoke as if the future were already written. Surrounded by the bodies of the entire galactic government, it would have been difficult for anyone to argue with his logic.

“What about him?” She asked, lowering her voice slightly.

“Ahhh” sighed Volka. “Him. His part is being played out as we speak.”

Noctei looked away. The only anchor to a past she had left behind, and a future that would never be. Still, the sting of recollection was as sharp as the day she last saw him. That day she turned her back on this life and put all her hope and dreams into the next.

With the final keystone in their possession, the pirates returned to their ships, shedding a disdainful gaze upon the Admiral's corpse. The Lords marveled at their conquered dominion, the marbled fortress now theirs to command. Though finalizing construction of the Ligera Vengaza was a task they were eager to undertake, the great work was almost at its end and there would be no distraction.

Without a ship of her own to command, Noctei lingered on the bridge of the Gallowmare. She was unable to shake the apprehension of her reunion. Had it really been twenty-five years? She gazed through tired eyes at the beginnings of wrinkled skin on her hands, catching a grey streak of hair in her periphery. She remembered the exact look in his eyes as she turned away; glossy pools of emotion, unable to accept her betrayal. The way he called for her as they dragged him off still haunted her dreams. Ceaseless guilt was the price she paid for the glorious purpose bestowed on her. Despite each forward stride, each mission she accomplished, the past refused to relinquish its grasp from around her throat, unyielding in defiance of the passing years. Waiting for time to soften the impact had proven a fruitless endeavor. Their eyes were destined to meet once more. And when they did, she would feel the true impact of that final day on the Eureka.