Uplift Protocol: Issue 1

“Exploration is in our nature. We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still. We have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean. We are ready at last to set sail for the stars.”
― Carl Sagan, Cosmos.

“Once you choose hope anything is possible .” – Christopher Reeve

Issue 1: The Fires of Illarium Extinguish

“The Wall Endures. By our very Chains, the Ouroboros Surrounds the Multiverse. Wrapped in the Life Blood of All.”-Old Markav Proverb.

“Beware the Dark, for the Eyes of the Pitiless Stare back. They have no home. Theirs is the lowest of Existence. Cold and bereft of comfort.”-From the Text of the Infinite.

Tarsis, Last Bastion

Illarium (The Heart of the Markav Hegemony )

Recorded Time Marker: 100 AFC (6 billion years ago)

Taleer sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him. Smoke and fire assaulted his senses as he dodged between the living and the dead. His people’s cries of terror seared deep at his soul. He was a soldier. Sworn to protect but this last mission would be the difference between total defeat or mere slumber. In order to preserve life, that last bit of hope, some would fall. In the end, at least his mate and children would survive, that was a father’s duty. To be that wall between life and death. Many fathers wouldn’t see the next sunrise.

 The sharp cracks of blaster fire echoed around him as the Void Walkers encroached deeper within the city complex. He pulled out his own Simbak, manufactured with the knowledge of the Forgers and Scholars. Its considerable heft was a comforting weight in his arms. The Gray Ones would fall before its might. One of them rounded the corner, its elongated ashen head highlighted on his H.U.D, black eyes gleaming in the deteriorating emergency lights.

He aimed his weapon’s long shaft at the enemy. An extensive burst of white light erupted from the crystallized spike at the forefront.

Simple but effective.

His adversary’s body fell in a crumpled heap. Another Markav unit rounded the corner, their weapons raised, but then they waved Taleer onward, knowing by his shoulder patch that his mission was of the highest priority. He gave them a curt nod then continued forward. Standing before him was the Reliquary. His cargo, the last testament of his race, was nestled in the webbing of his chest plate. Recording everything to memory so that those who came after would know of the Markav civilization’s sacrifice.

He reached the central chamber then used the Codex to descend into the dark. At the very core of their planet was an artificial complex, unconstrained by Time. A lifeboat that would carry the most precious parts of their people to the future. Hopefully, the colony on Aden would be able to eventually reconnect. The colony was integral to the rebirth of his people. Even after being hit by a near planet-killing asteroid, the biodiversity of that planet survived. Hopefully, some of their scientific endeavors would bear fruit.

A sudden jerk brought Taleer to his knees. Faint cracks appeared along the walls of the tram. The white walls around him began to warp. From the back of his mind, he could feel them, slowly peeling away his sense of self. His eyes screwed shut momentarily. A pounding roar exploded behind his temples. Two swirling pitiless orbs peered into his soul.

Darker than the endless cosmos between the stars.

The Director himself was here!

 He placed a warding sigil on the floor. Then with a few quick swipes of his fingers, the globe obfuscated itself. He encoded it with a series of triggers. As the Scholars had foretold, one day the Slumberer would find it, for the enemy had no true emotions to pull the Cypher from its torpor.

 He withdrew another sphere. Its milky white surface was chaotic. Swirls of green and purple lashed out against the glass surface. Hopefully, it would be enough to fool the enemy. His H.U.D began a countdown. The Reliquary would seal itself completely in 2 minutes. The Slumberer would have to complete his mission.

 A horrendous tearing sound filled the tiny space as four Void Walkers phased through the interior plating. One was easily two heads taller than his brethren. Taleer’s back went rigid with shock as the Director reached out with one mottled gray hand and slammed him against the wall. An invisible force started to crush the Markav’s bones. 

 

 

Sweat appeared on his forehead as the pressure in his legs expanded. His breathing was ragged. Must not give in. Only chance. Distract the Enemy.

“You only delay the inevitable. Give me the Key.”

The Director’s voice was devoid of any emotion. Surprisingly light for someone his size. Spots danced before Taleer’s eyes as the Director began to sap the oxygen from his lungs.

Taleer began to wheeze, phlegm dribbling from between his lips. A rictus grin formed on his face.

“The Wall endures.” Pure defiance blazed within his heart.  A blessing from the  Scholars. The air around him became brittle and stale. Almost razor hot in its intensity. Beads of condensation formed along the walls. The Gray Ones, while having no outward emotions, lashed out in other ways. Playing with sentients they considered deficient.

For his people, the body was only a shell. It was the soul that mattered the most. This Director of the Void would get no purchase. Even if the body of Illarium died, its center would live on, to be reborn.  

His yellow eyes turned glassy as pain exploded in his hands. Each finger turned numb. His wrists shattered. The orb dropped with a dull thud onto the tram tiles.  Bright green flecks exploded from his mouth and covered his tunic as the enemy rammed his hand into the Markav’s stomach. His battle armor H.U.D glowed red, sending out a trill, as the emergency med nanites tried to repair his failing lungs.

Still, the soldier endured. Proud and defiant.

30 more seconds.

He could see the smiling faces of his children. His wife singing them to sleep. Building the Great Chamber. To await the dawn of Rebirth. The Guardian of Life. Slumbering One. That which must remain hidden. Taleer snarled at his foes, using his own blood as a catalyst, he spat upon the floor, activating the secondary attributes of the defense sigil.

The Director let out a sibilant hiss as green crystals burst forth from the ground, impaling two of his cohorts to the walls. Their cries were cut short as their bodies dissipated. Leaving behind no trace. While the third fired his weapon, hitting Taleer directly in the throat. Its burning metal burrowed through flesh and bone to burrow itself along the spinal column. As the life essence slowly ebbed from Taleer’s body, the final message he saw, before the Cradle took him was:

Chamber Secure. Awaiting Convergence.  ///|||\\\ 

The Director, as he was known by lesser beings, knelt down to put the orb in the corpse’s hand. Based on its texture and energy output, this wasn’t the Cypher he was looking for. A pity. A mundane recording device. For whatever reason, basic organic entities felt the need to record their thoughts or feelings on tools. A waste of data in his estimation. They persisted in delaying the inevitable. There were so many wondrous things to test in this universe. It had a flavor all its own among the countless dimensions he had traversed. The weight of Creation itself. A veritable cornucopia of possibilities.

Even if those simple-minded Markavs had sealed away their dwindling population in some sort of Scholar thrice-damned machine, he would continue his evaluations and experiments, for that was the true potential of any sentient race. To master anything one must be willing to sacrifice all, even himself for the greater glory of Unity.

With one last withering look at the body, the Director and his remaining henchman scanned the tram for any other oddities. Nothing. These poor misguided beings, never appreciating the hardships his people went through to guide them along. The Scholars, thinking themselves above everyone else, locking away the ultimate key to the Universe. They were afraid of the potential. Raw strength should be appreciated. Guided. Studied.

Only then would others understand. Be uplifted. Not rolling around in the muck on some backwater. The stars were out there for the taking but most just wallowed in the mud. Never looking up from the ground. This universe was filled with wayward children. He would teach them. Nurture the power and destiny of those worthy.

He took his thumb and forefinger, dipped it into the green blood, memorizing the genetic sequence of this failed experiment. This species could access energy sources foreign to his people. Yet they persisted in common defiance. To a scientist, it was most vexing. They were here to help others find the Path. Why couldn’t they perceive that? Troublesome.

 “Such a vexing culture. An empty gesture of a dead race.”

After another moment of consideration he and his fellow Keeper phase-out of the tramway. Nothing remained of their passage.

The orb flared briefly, echoing along the various pathways throughout the city, relaying a message for the Last Line. The Highmaker’s personality matrix flowed into Taleer’s brain, copying the soldier's memories and personality for the long dark ahead, grateful that the nanites kept the core of him preserved long enough for the process.

The Cypher is secured. May the Cradle embrace all those who remain. The Debt of Blood remains. From the Ashes, we will rise anew.

*****

In Orbit, Keeper Timestasis Relay 001                                                                                 

Illarium (Failed Species 087, Multiversal Sector Prime)

Recorded Time Marker: 100 AFC (6 billion years ago)

            The Director, properly known as Chronos among his Keeper brothers, gazed down at the burning surface of Illarium. Every feed on each screen magnified to precise detail. Even now he could see the verdant green valleys disappearing under the smoke and ruin.  Other sentients were a puzzle they had yet to fully decode. They even made their AI as dysfunctional as they were. A monumental barrier of frustration. Progress shouldn’t be chained. All those worthy will reach Unity. Only then would they break the bonds of this physical existence. The truth of reality was out there for the taking. If only they could get the rest of the multiverse to understand.

There is no fear of knowledge. One only had to use it to unlock the full potential. 

“I know the taste of your tears,” he murmured. 

Many more would be shed before the Project would be completed. So be it. The Scholars and their puppets would pay dearly for this frivolous action. After all, one cannot stop progress. Measured next to the might of Unity, all other considerations were moot. 

 

Copyright © 2020 by K.M. Able

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to those living or dead is coincidental. 


This is only the beginning. 

• Issue 2: Here

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