The Rising Sun: Episode 1



  The Rising Sun

  Clocks

  BOOK ONE

  J HAWK

  Copyright © 2014 J Hawk

  “ALL POWER LIES WITHIN”

  - Swami Vivekananda

  EPISODE 1

  1

  The howling of the winds rose over the air, casting an atmosphere of gloom over it. The barren sands of the desert flowed forth in all four directions, a never ending, lifeless expanse. The sand dunes plunged and rose in a ruthless fashion, seeming to have a mind of their own.

 

  The world lay blanketed in a deep, serene black. The night sky carried the meanest tint of violet, a colour effected by the planet’s atmospheric condition.

  The cold wind lashed at Zardin’s robes. His ink black cloak flapped wildly, but the rest of his body stood as still as iron, a rigid sense of focus clutching every nerve in it. The hood cast over his head covered the upper half of his face, leaving darkness to shroud the other half below. He stood as unmoven as a statue, with his stare fastened on the scene directly ahead of him.

  Less than a mile from where he stood on the crest of a sand dune, a gigantic structure lay sprawled over the desert’s barren floor. The building’s lavish size would have dwarfed any ordinary city structure. But at this distance, the majesty of its craft seemed to wither: The giant structure was swallowed in the immenseness of the vast desert around it.

  All of this, the details of Zardin’s surroundings and the scenery around him, were delivered to him not through his eyes … but through his mind. His perfect instrument in knowing the world around him…

  He could hear the sound of wind torn, flapping robes emit not only from his own, but from right behind him. He turned slowly, gazing at the line of four men standing right behind him. Covered in ink black cloaks and hooded as he was, they stood as still as lamp posts. Their postures emanating an unwavered sense of focus. Like Zardin, they too had what looked like a thin black stick slung behind them.

  A burning sense of resolve seemed to fill the air around these five cloaked men who stood in the middle of this colossal, lonely desert. Feeling sharp teeth clench within his mouth, Zardin turned his cloaked head fully to face the line of men right behind him.

  “Men, you know the plan.” he called, the iciness of his voice mingling with the blank howl of the wind.

  The foursome returned a set of swift nods, the motion dampened slightly in the darkness cast over their hoods. The men met Zardin’s stare unflinching as he rested it over them for a brief second before turning back around.

  The structure far out in the middle of the desert ahead of them was carved with a fine elegance, no doubt an exquisite sense of grandeur afforded by this planet’s government only for the highest of purposes.

  Known as the Mech laboratory, this was established by the King of this planet a few years back. It had been built with the purpose of supplying the planet’s government with a stream of technological innovations. High end gadgets, gizmos and techno devices were manufactured here in this facility, and handed over to the control of the government.

  But the science born here was kept well guarded within the government: when building it, the King and his council had decided for Mech laboratory to be a well kept secret. It was, they deemed, a measure necessary for the planet’s greater good: for this technology had to be kept from falling to the wrong purposes.

  And so, when establishing it years back, the King and his council had decided to have it built here. In the middle of the soulless Drylac desert, away from the civilian eyes. And since then, they had kept the existence of Mech labs a guarded secret.

  Or they thought they had…

  Zardin felt a smile liven his features beneath his hood’s dark shroud.

  The five of them had come here to obtain a certain object, a certain very important object, from the building lying ahead of them in the desert. And once they had, once they secured this precious artifact they had come for … the wheels would be in motion. And the entire world would stand by and watch helplessly.

  Zardin let his thoughts run over the plan for a few seconds. The workers inside Mech’s facility were blissfully unaware of what awaited them. The only concern enveloping them as of now, was a scheduled visit they were expecting from the King and his council in a few minutes. They were too busy anticipating the visit from their noble King to realise that there was something slightly more deadly hurling towards them…

  Stroking his other hand with a single, long fingernail, Zardin continued to survey the building for a final moment. Then, he slowly turned about fully, facing the line of men standing behind him.

  “Brace yourselves,” He ordered. His voice seemed honed to a hiss like sharpness in the wheezing of the wind. “It’s time.”

  __________

  “So it just detects…” Argos slowly lifted his eyes from the pen like device held in his hand, and looked at the engineer. “Minerals? In the earth?”

  The engineer, whose face showed a sign of brewing affront, raised an eyebrow. “It’s a mineral detector. That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s fantastic.” Argos lowered his eyes to the pen like device, the mineral detector. “Just not nearly as fancy as some of the other stuff you guys usually make - That was a compliment.” he added hurriedly, catching sight of the indignance flaring in the engineer’s face. “I meant you’re great at what you do.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he thumped the engineer on the back, pocketed the mineral detector and walked off. He walked down the showroom, pausing at the second most crowded desk. Another engineer clad in a white suit was explaining the functioning of a device that promised to be far more interesting than the mineral detector.

  “- something that takes technology to a whole new level,” the engineer was saying, holding up a large disc like device. “And we in Mech are truly proud to have this unveiled for the King this time. Picking up mystical energy with the help of this device is -”

  A greatly intriguing new device. Which the laboratory had just brought out. Argos felt a steadily growing daze as he listened to the engineer describing it.

  “… the device can locate mystics standing within a radius of a few metres –” the engineer was saying.

  Argos gave up trying to make reason out of what he was hearing. He turned to a man by his side, who had also been listening to the unveiling of this new innovation. “Let me get this straight: they’ve come up with a device that can … locate mystics?”

  “That’s right.” replied the other, turning sideways to face Argos. “It has the capacity to detect mystics through mystical energy fields. This is a groundbreaking new innovation for locating mystics.”

  Argos gave a forced chuckle. “Locating mystics wouldn’t be such a good idea … It might turn out to be the last thing you do.”

  “Tell that to the Naxim.” replied the man. “They’ve given us a huge order for these devices. Shipments have already been made to some of the closest planets.” He shrugged. “You can’t get enough anti mystic security these days.”

  Argos nodded. “The Naxim have been dying for a device like this. A device to help them with what they do. Wonder why though, seeing as they’ve almost chased most mystics out of the inner spectrum.” He turned sideways and walked off, adding in a low mutter, “And thank the heavens for that.”

  Mystics…

  A shudder passed Argos, who quickly muttered a prayer and drew his thoughts elsewhere.

  Mystics were a class of men whose minds had transcended beyond the usual borders known to man … thereby absorbing new potentials. New abilities. Strange abilities … Through their elevated state of mind, they could command supernatural
powers that defied the laws of nature themselves.

  But they were the source of fear like nothing else…

  This rare class of men was the cause for great terror among the people in the spectrum. Terror that had survived for ages now … and would continue to haunt them evermore. For history had been shaped to know mystics as nothing but evil, satanic creatures: they were known to be responsible for wreaking anarchy and mayhem like nothing else.

  The Naxim was a prominent anti terrorist organisation committed to hunting down mystics. But even with their best efforts, which had carried forth for ages, the Naxim had failed in erasing the deep rooted fear that the world held for them. For that curse among the class of men known as mystics…

  Argos emerged into a long corridor outside the showroom, striding down it in a quick pace. As he briskly stalked down the long passage, he couldn’t help but feel a squirmish sensation at the base of his stomach. As the manager of the securities for this building, these were certain pressurizing instances he faced in his job. This was a top secret facility, and on any ordinary day, nothing could be allowed to go amiss. But on this particular day, absolutely nothing could be allowed to go amiss…

  The King, the executive head of the planet’s government, and his councilmen were about to arrive here on a routine visit which they made once every three months. On this routine visit, they inspected the gadgets developed by the techno company, and made their plans for ordering and distributing the new innovations for various government purposes.

  This was a day, once in three months, that kept everyone in the facility slightly on their nerves: It wasn’t everyday you had an audience with the most powerful man in this state and his advisors. But Argos was the one on whom the majority of the pressure fell on, for he was in charge of the security enforced during the King’s visit.

  Humming to himself as he walked to cool his nerves, Argos exited the corridor at its end and emerged into a vast, chamber like hall with desks lined against its walls. The main hall was in the clutches of a frantic buzz of activity. The workers were preparing the audience with the King and the showcasing of the gadgets that Mech had brought up. Men in coats and suits walked about in quick, dashy paces, all of them busy talking to each other, or to someone in their z-coms(The device used as the widespread mode of communication).

  The large circular hall had a line of desks placed against the wall at one end. Standing rigidly in a line in front of the wall on the right were about two dozen robots, all of them crafted in the build of men, with two arms, two legs, and a torso. Their heads looked nothing more than helmets, with a large glass patch at the front. They stood lined against the wall in unmoving attention postures, all of them identical in their thin build and elegant metallic finish. The Rash-cons were the typical robotic soldiers used in any army or security force: made with an uncompromised intelligence that defied even that of men, these were the standard force employed for armies and security forces all over the spectrum.

  “Argos, have all security checks been completed?”

  Argos wheeled to face the source of the voice. Pan, the director of the organisation stood behind him, dressed neatly in his best suit.

  “Yeah, they have.” replied Argos airily.

  The carefree tone didn’t go amiss: Pan tilted his head slightly, a scowl narrowing across his brow. “Argos, this is the worst time for some kind of goof to happen in our facility… in front of the King.”

  “Oh, relax. Nobody even knows this place exists.”

  Pan’s scowl deepened, and he opened his mouth to respond. But the next second, a fierce beeping arose, laying waste to the retort he was building. Digging into his left suit pocket, he withdrew a small metallic device. He pressed a button on the z-com to answer the incoming call.

  A voice spoke through a harsh signal:

  “This is Captain Ron, speaking from the King’s ship. We are heading in for landing. Over.”

  Pan held the z-com close to his lips and replied, “Captain Ron, this is director Pan. We are opening the hatch,” His eyes rose to the roof hanging far above them all. “You can bring the ship in. Over.”

  Turning to a worker, Pan signaled towards the roof. The worker bustled off towards a nearby control table, and hit a few buttons on it.

  Argos felt his eyes wander to the roof, and as he watched, it slid out in two large halves to reveal a pitch black expanse of night sky. Within a few seconds, the sound of a loud electrical engine drowned the bustle in the room. A large, elegantly modeled ship glided in from one side, right over the opening in the roof. The King’s ship carried a touch of majesty, a silver gleam cast in the moonlight. Two large wings stretched out on opposite sides. The ship tilted to a side mildly as it sank lower, so that its wings fitted through the opening.

  The workers slowly backed away, clearing around a large circle at the centre of the hall. The ship floated down to a gentle landing in the middle of the hall, its feet touching the ground with a slight shudder.

  Pan’s z-com beeped again.

  “This is Captain Ron,” said the same voice, as he answered the call. “I’m opening the ramp. The King and his councilmen will be down it now.

  Pan held the device close to his mouth, smiling. “Thanks Ron. Over and out.”

  A large rectangular strip slowly dislodged from beneath the ship, landing on the ground below as a ramp.

  Pan drew in a deep breath. Here we go…

  The entire hall held its eyes to the ramp, waiting.

  And then, a dead body came rolling down the ramp…

  And then another … and another … and another…

  As the pile of bodies collected on the floor beneath the ramp, Pan felt his mind blaze with horror, unable to believe what his eyes were relaying…

  The King and his councilmen.

  They were all dead.

  A ghastly sense of horror swept over the entire room. The workers gaped at the bodies of their state’s dead leaders with mortified looks.

  Ripples of chaos were slowly breaking across the death like silence that had gripped the place. The workers covered their mouths in shock, all of their widened eyes fixed on the King and his councilmen’s bodies. Some of them were slowly edging backwards from the hall, while others stood rigidly, shock still rooting them to the spot.

  Finding himself again, Pan dialled for the captain. “Captain Ron, do you read me?! The King and his councilmen are–”

  “-dead.” finished the same voice … but the voice was strangely different now, as though it had shed something which it did not previously own. Ever word it spoke now seemed to emit an icy chill. “Dear man, too bad of you not to have guessed that at the start itself … as you also should have guessed that my real name is not Ron. And I’m not the King’s captain.”

  Pan slowly lowered the z-com, his fingers trembling. The revelation crossed his mind like a dagger driven through it: there was a madman inside of that ship right now…

  A madman responsible for murdering the leaders of their state…

  That instant, he felt the situation spin to a whole new degree of graveness.

  “Who … are you?” he spoke slowly into the z-com, his breathing now turning rugged.

  The silence on the other side of the line stretched on for a few moments, over which only a soft, hiss like breathing was heard … And then the cold voice spoke again.

  “I am nothing … I am a meek speck in the universe’s sheet. I am the dust gathered beneath our creator’s feet. It hardly ever counts what we are. What counts … is what we do.”

  Without thinking, Pan shot his gaze towards the line of Rash-cons by the side of the wall. “Cons –Surround the ship! Now!”

  As if electrified, the robots sprang into action, bolting forward and surrounding the ramp ahead of the ship. They drew their guns and pointed at the ramp. Ready to shoot at command.

  “Whoever you are,” breathed Pan, holding the z-com tightly as he spoke into it. “We’ve got the ship surrounded. Th
ere’s nowhere you can run … so come out with your hands raised now!”

  Silence absorbed the line for a few more seconds, and then the man gave a soft laugh. “Careful what you wish for…”

  And a shadow formed at the top of the ramp, slowly elongating … and a group of five cloaked figures slowly descended the length of the ramp, with hoods drawn over their heads.

  The air seemed to freeze in tension, as the people in the hall held their breaths. The Rash-cons kept their postures on edge, all of their guns held steady in aim at the five men waking down the ramp. And as the men strode down with an exaggerated elegance, Pan knew that something was wrong. There were two dozen loaded weapons pointed at them, and yet the five unarmed men came strutting without the meanest hint of fear or panic … as though they believed there wasn’t a thing in the world that could harm them.

  The seconds crawled by, and the five cloaked men reached the base of the ramp. The man in the centre reached for his hood and pulled it down. Pan felt his eyes grow wide slowly, as they processed what they were seeing…