The Rising Sun: Episode 1 Page 3

  “Excuse me,” he called. “Where are we exactly?”

  The man lowered the magazine he’d been reading and looked up at Ion. He had two short, black horns emerging on opposite sides of his head and two dark patches hanging right below his eyes. Ion knew that these were attributes of the fact that the man was an Iveling, one of the countless species of intelligent, humanoid life forms that inhabited their world. The intelligent humanoid life forms which were otherwise called as the man beings, the pinnacle of evolution in the known universe.

  “We’re still in cluster 54.” the Iveling replied.

  Ion sat up, his eyebrows rising. “We’re still in the same star cluster?”

  “Don’t worry,” assured the man, his eyes sinking back to his magazine. “We should be reaching cluster 32 soon now. We’re almost at the space gate.”

  Ion thanked the man and sat back against his seat, feeling a dull mass of boredom settle over him.

  Still in cluster 54 … reaching cluster 32 soon … almost at the space gate.

  Cluster 32 and 54 were just two of the 72 star clusters present in the spectrum(the known portion of their galaxy, but a mere speck inside of it). The star clusters were imaginary spheres spread inside of which were a hundred planets and ten stars. The 72 star clusters formed what was called as the inner spectrum, the portion of the spectrum carrying almost all known life, and the portion where all the Republics, Kingdoms and states existed. To shrink the colossal distances separating the 72 star clusters in the inner spectrum, each star cluster had what was known as a space gate inside of it. The space gates were portals connecting a star cluster to the seventy one others.

  Within a minute or so, Ion saw what appeared to be a gigantic sphere like entity formed completely of violet light appear in front of the ship. The space gate seemed to be composed purely of violet light, looking somewhat like a violet coloured mini star. The rim of the space gate expanded across Ion’s window as the cruiser soared towards it. And as they entered the violet sphere, for a blinding moment the world seemed engulfed in a flare of brightest violet.

  Then, as the light died, the cruiser was emerging from the other side of the same violet spherical entity. However, they had just crossed billions of miles, and the space gate they were emerging from was that of a different star cluster. They had just teleported from cluster 54 to cluster 32, and across an unmassed distance that could have otherwise taken hours of transport.

  An announcement drew Ion’s attention, informing them that they had just emerged in cluster 32, and that the destination planet, Sacrogon, was a few minutes away.

  “That was fast,” Ion commented, turning to the Iveling on the neighbouring line of seats. “If only we had space gates connecting us to the outer spectrum.”

  The Iveling looked up from his magazine, staring at Ion with a slightly intrigued look. “What d’you wanna go to the outer spectrum for? That place is no good and the whole world knows it.”

  The outer spectrum, the outer portion of the spectrum that came beyond the inner spectrum, was unorganised, mostly lifeless region. Ion knew that the tone of foreboding the man spoke with was owing to the fact that the outer spectrum was deemed a dangerous, unnatural place. Which people avoided. There were numerous reasons for this, but the primary one was that fugitives, or those fleeing from prosecution in the inner spectrum, were usually found hiding in the outer spectrum. Thereby making it a dangerous place which was generally kept away from.

  “I’ve been there.” said Ion, sitting sideways on his seat. “To the outer spectrum.”

  The man lowered his magazine, his attention now shifting fully to Ion. “Yeah?” He spoke softly, as though afraid he might be put behind bars for talking about the outer spectrum. “Did you- err,” He hesitated. “Did you happen to meet any of … them?”

  “Who?” asked Ion, though he had a faint idea he already knew.

  The man’s whisper crawled softer. “Mystics of course.” He swept a look about him, clearly afraid to be caught talking about a topic that incited such fear among people. And a topic that had caused too much agitation in their world, over millennia.

  Mystics were men whose minds transcended the level of regular ones, thereby giving them supernatural strengths and powers. They were hunted down and prosecuted heavily inside of the inner spectrum. Condemned by the Kingdoms and states of the inner spectrum, along with the Naxim, a powerful anti terror organisation, the mystics still surviving had all fled to the outer spectrum. And they were the main cause for the outer spectrum to be deemed to be such a deadly place.

  “Did you run into any of them?” the man repeated.

  Ion gave a lazy shake of his head. “No, of course not.”

  The man gave a grunt of laughter. “I shoulda guessed that. If you did, you wouldn’t be alive, would you?”

  “Mystics aren’t really what make the outer spectrum dangerous.” said Ion.

  “No?” asked the Redling, his tone boding a whisker of scepticism.

  “No,” said Ion. “There’re more deadly things out there than them. Try the non man beings, for instance.”

  The man’s gaze sharpened at this second out of bounds topic that they were now delving into: If not mystics, the non man beings, the completely inhuman life forms that inhabited the scarcest region of the outer spectrum, boded the major cause of the fear people held for that place. They were mostly uncivilised, beastly creatures who hadn’t been seen for ages now…

  The mixture of curiosity and thrill mounting on his face, the man bent even closer. “Indeed. I’d agree with you on that, but non man beings aren’t easy to find, even in the outer spectrum. They’ve gone deep into hiding for long now, ever since the time of the empire.”

  “And we’re lucky for that.” said Ion.

  “Blasted right we are.” said the Iveling, shaking his horned head. “Imagine having wretched creatures like the Ensys … or even worse, the Zelgron, here in our planets.”

  Zelgron…

  The word left a quick shiver to run through Ion. He fought off the dread rushing up.

  “But having said all of that,” said the man, pausing for a moment’s thought. “I’d still hold the outer spectrum dangerous mainly because of them. Mystics.” He gave another grunt of laughter, slowly raising his magazine again. “I’d rather face a Zelgron than a mystic.”

  Ion frowned at the man for a second, wondering if this topic was worth it. Then he slowly said, “Do you really think that all of them deserve to be condemned?”

  The man lowered his magazine, turning to him with a look of dawning incredulity. “Who, mystics?”

  Ion nodded. “I mean … come on, surely there’ve gotta be innocent ones among them. And surely they don’t deserve the prosecution they face, right?”

  “Whether or not that’s true, I really don’t care.” said the man. “But I’m definitely glad they’ve been chased out of our world. We can’t risk being enslaved by a tyrant like Redgarn ever again, can we? Even now, the scars left by Redgarn and the empire that his mystic followers brought about aren’t gone, kid. And in getting rid of all mystics to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again, the Naxim’s done a pretty bold and necessary move. We’ve gotta be grateful to them.”

  Ion’s frown deepened. He disagreed with the man in this. He knew that condemning all mystics, good or evil, was nothing close to bold … it was cowardice. The world had suffered because of the actions of a few mystics, but prosecuting all of them for it was oppression.

  “How can you be so sure?” Ion argued. “What if there’re a good number of innocent ones among them?”

  The man frowned. “It’d be hard to find innocent mystics, and if we do find them,” He shrugged his shoulder. “It’s too bad they’re a part of such a lethal class of men. In either case, we’ve no need to worry of mystics now that we’re at Sacrogon.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Ion.

  The man shook his head in a display of disbelief. “Come on, kid. This p
lanet is on the Naxim’s highest priority list. The Naxim’s lookout and alertness in this planet’s sharper than in most others. They’ve got a tight hold here, and anti mystic security is way too high. If a mystic tries wandering into Sacrogon, he’d be risking every hair on his body.”

  “Yeah, he probably would,” agreed Ion, slumping back against his seat.

  He absently ran one hand through his spiky red hair, relishing the feel of it. He knew that the crimson colour of his hair, along with the tint of orange on his skin which was barely noticeable(and which came to prominence in sunlight), were features of the species he belonged to. A rare species, known as Fyrlings. The thousands of man being species found across the spectrum, such as the Fyrlings and the Ivelings, were all distinguished by subtle and usually insignificant features. Like the Iveling’s horns and dark patches, and like Ion’s skin and hair colour. Among the countless species, three stood out and were found predominantly in the spectrum: the Ivelings, the Elflings(who had slanting eyes, and pointed ears), and the Redlings(who had short red fur covering their entire body).

  Less than two minutes passed before the rim of a giant brown orb slowly drew across Ion’s window, with the cruiser zooming towards it. Sacrogon, Ion admitted, was the smallest planet that he had been to. Now exiting space, the cruiser scaled down its speed drastically. In a few seconds it had breached the planet’s atmosphere, streaking through its spongy, cloud strewn sky.

  As the cruiser glided into the lower level of the sky, the planet’s ground slowly came to clarity. The city, or whatever could be seen of it from this distance, appeared as a giant maze of short concrete buildings spread over a vast, brown ground. Ion couldn’t help noticing that the city carried an unglamorous, shabby air. It appeared to have grown over an explosive, unplanned pattern. The tiny streets were squeezed between the sprawl of structures in whatever space available.

  The city zoomed to clarity with the cruiser’s rapid descent. In a few seconds, the giant vessel angled towards a gigantic, empty expanse in the middle of the maze of structures. As the tiny dots perched on the empty expanse slowly grew to clarity, Ion realised they were ships: this, simple, inelegant and plain as it was, was the planet’s ship station. The ground came hovering upwards as the cruiser soared down, and in a few seconds, the cruiser had landed on the great brown expanse, sending a slight shudder down the corridor.

  Shuffling and bustling as they hurried towards the exits, the passengers pooled towards the doors located down front. Ion waited patiently for the crowd to clear before gathering his own belonging, a small black rucksack placed under his seat, and heading out himself. As he emerged into the open, he squinted to let his eyes adjust to the shift in lighting.

  The cruiser had landed somewhere at the edge of the clearing. Slightly ahead of him, a line of short concrete buildings stretched against the horizon. The lower range of the sky had a faint pinkish glow. The evening sun, a blood red orb, lay half immersed in the line of buildings, with a crimson halo painted around it.

  Ion allowed himself a few seconds to intake the scenery as he stood and gazed at it. Then, reaching into the rucksack held in one hand, he unzipped the bag and dug through his contents for a while before extracting from the mess, a crumpled yellow chit.

  Right where I left you.

  This crumpled yellow chit was the reason Ion was here…

  Dropping the rucksack, he unfurled the yellow chit with both hands, and spent a few seconds gazing into it. Then, drawing in a slow, deep breath, Ion picked up his rucksack again and trotted forth into the bustling city…

  3

  The silence was rigid, stone like.

  The large, chamber like room was spread over a gigantic empty area. Its walls were pushed well apart, and its roof hung higher than any ordinary room’s.

  On both ends of the room, standing as still as the walls behind them, were two lines of Rash-cons. Even in the inactive state they stood in, the robots seemed to fill the space around them with a fierce mechanical menace. Something that their timid, thin builds failed to hamper.

  At the far end of the room, standing around a particular spot in a guarded, uncomposed manner, were six men. Their postures were unrelaxed, and their faces reflected the same sense of turbidity. All six pair of hands carried an identical black coloured gun. It was no larger than a pistol, but with a fine curvish elegance in its craft. The Sparkler was the widespread used gun in the spectrum. Built in three modes with one to kill, one to stun(to render unconscious), and one to freeze(temporarily paralyse), this was weaponry in its most advanced form. Unlike bullets or darts, the Sparkler used electro bolts for its shots, saving the carrier the arduous need of carrying ammunition.

  The six Sparkler wielding men shifted mildly from time to time, and threw occasional seething glances at the spot they stood surrounding. But they would quickly switch their attentions back to the other peculiar feature in the large room: a man pacing up and down it relentlessly.

  With his hands behind his back, a Redling strode back and forth inside the large room, his eyes glued to the ground ahead of him. The red fur covering him all over was so short, a person standing at a distance might have mistaken his skin itself to be red. The man seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings as he strode up and down the room in his thought absorbed state. Finally trotting to a stall in his unresumed pacing, Grando slowly looked up. An unpleasant frown had settled over his brow.

  Very well, then. He thought to himself. I guess you leave me with no choice.

  He wheeled to face the line of Rash-cons on his right. “Go fetch me … the Stinger.”

  The robot took a step forward, gave Grando a stiff salute, and then bustled off towards the door of the large room. Grando’s eyes followed the Rash-con as it walked over to the room door, which slid open automatically to let it through, and then re sealed itself.

  Grando sucked in a deep, cooling breath, and then slowly turned to face the six men at the far end of the room. His eyes centered on the peculiar spot sitting amidst the men…

  Racowl sat bound to a chair in the midst of the six men, with his robes tattered and torn at spots, and deep red cuts lining his exposed skin. His face was purple and swollen at spots, with one of his eyelids swollen and slightly blotchy. But despite the heavy torture he had endured, Racowl simply refused to budge. His stubbornness was unwavering.

  And now, it was time to change that.

  Grando slowly stalked forward, his eyes locked on the prisoner sitting bound to the chair helplessly at the end of the room. The men standing around him fixed their attention on Grando as he casually walked up to them. Racowl’s eyes, bulging with terror, were locked over Grando as he approached.

  Stepping up by his side, Grando gave Racowl a gentle pat on the shoulder. He looked over the wall behind him. A dense clutter of pictures lay pasted across the wall, such that little room was left in between the pictures. All of the pictures had a face staring out of them, and below the face, the word ‘Nemesis’ followed by a number.

  “My enemies,” said Grando, shaking his head at the clutter of pictures. “rivals, nemeses. All of them come from such diverse backgrounds. Some of them are traitors, some members of enemy terror groups, some of them ministry officials. But all of them have one thing in common.” He lowered his voice to a silky whisper. “I need them all dead. Fast. And die, they will. Now, let’s see here.” He ran his forefinger over the wall, along the clutter of pictures. “There’s nemesis 5, a desecrator. I’ve been trying to find him for months now … Ah, and nemesis 8, an enemy terror group leader. I should have him killed soon. And nemesis 12, an army officer … he’s a prick, that man. And of course, nemesis one, my most dangerous foe. I need to kill him before he kills me. And this is a pretty deadly one.”

  With a rough chuckle, Grando slowly turned and strode before the bound man on the chair. “But trust me, they’ll have nothing to fear … when compared to you, Racowl.” He bent before the chair, bringing his face mere inches to
Racowl’s mutilated one. “For your sake, I hope you’ve fully understood the true graveness of your position right now.”

  Racowl’s pupils were wide with terror, as they watched Grando with a reeling intensity.

  “Tell me right now exactly how much information about us you’ve leaked to the secret forces,” Grando paused and swallowed a quick breath. “And I may just let you live without a limb or two.”

  Drawing himself up straight, he turned to face the door to see if the Rash-con he had sent had returned, before turning back to face Racowl.

  “The secret forces haven’t done a great job this time.” he said. “They put a spy in a lethal terrorist group. A very bad spy … who had gotten himself caught a little too easily.”

  The six men laughed harshly.

  “And now,” Grando bent down before the bound man again, his voice sinking to a dangerous hiss. “that spy is sitting in the interrogation room, badly tortured … and not far from his death.” He waited for the terror to effect in Racowl’s bulging eyes before adding softly, “But if you’d still like to defend your friends in the secret forces, who have not a care as to what’s happening with you now, be my guest.”