AfterEarth

NOW.

Ian winced. The explosions were happening more frequently now as damage to the skycapital became greater. Soldiers ran past him as he struggled to get up. His body still seemed to endure, his wounds rapidly healing as he staggered towards a nearby support column. A group of Centurions approached him, some with rifles drawn and the rest pulling their deadly swords from their scabbards, the electro current sizzling up and down the gladius vibroblades. Being a former member of that elite squad, he knew full well how deadly they were.

Looking around, Ian saw no sign of Orus, or any of the Trinity Primes. He wondered if they were still locked in pitched-battle inside the throne room. His thoughts went out to the conflict of the Primes, all at one time or another, his mentors, his friends, and the betrayal he committed to all of them became an icy bit to swallow. The squad of Centurions were now getting closer, their armor creating loud thuds as they marched across the alley. Those with rifles opened fire, the bullets ricocheting off the steel walls as Ian lunged and rolled to evade the gunfire. Across the street opposite the approaching Centurions, a trio of Katanas shimmered into place. The centurions focused their fire on the newly discovered threat. A wall of flame erupted from a group of Sun Spellcasters and the Centurions found themselves in a pincer and Ian quickly ran off to elude the firefight.

Alarms continued to scream and wail as the aerial capital of the Elysian Empire lost altitude. Ian could still hear the pounding of the artillery fire of the Far Eastern Kingdom’s guns as the shells crashed against the weakening shields of the city. Several scientists and technocrats found escape pods that jettisoned out into the sky. Others huddled in confused corners, wary of the dozens of skirmishes happening in and around the many sections of the skycapital. Ian knew it as well as any of them. As warriors of the Army of the Sun sped past him, spears bristling along with shields polished to perfection. The Elysian Fields, the floating city of the Elysian Empire, was going down.

He continued to run.

Everywhere around him there was complete disarray. The Last Great War left the planet in its current dismal state, and Ian wondered if his actions would change the future or just repeat the mistakes of the past. Ian could not help but feel a pang of guilt that all this destruction, all this mayhem was somehow his fault. He kept telling himself that this was the path he chose for himself. That in spite of the overwhelming press of influence and training, and the destiny that was placed on him, he still persevered to make a choice that was his own, a path that was completely his to take. He thought about his companions. He wondered about Lamia and Myrddin, and Olivaw and even Raguel. How were they faring in this disordered fray? They all knew the risks they were taking upon embarking on this mission, but then it seemed so simple, so overwhelmingly victorious that the success of the siege seemed to be definite. Now he had no idea if his friends were still alive, or even if he, despite his abilities, would leave the city and survive.

After long moments of searching, Ian found what he was looking for. A door hissed and opened beside him and he took the turn towards the portal. He found himself in a long corridor lined with blinking lights. The alarms seemed to fade as he walked towards the end of the passageway. He continued to trek as the path turned and dropped at different points until he reached a massive bulkhead. The door itself must have been built entirely of pure Solidium. He doubted that even he could pound his way through. He glanced around and noticed a small panel that prompted for a scan. He paused for a moment and placed his bare hand on the surface. It was cool to the touch. A male voice boomed throughout the tunnel.

“What is the ultimate duty?”

Without thinking, Ian answered, a response so inbred that it required no intention at all. His training from Prime Memory kicked in.

“To Serve.”

With a clack and a rolling of steel bars, the bulkhead opened. The tunnel went awash with light as he stepped into a huge cavern. The ceiling must have been almost a full hundred feet high. He retraced his steps in his head and he guessed he must be directly beneath the throne room now. A huge ring of pipes and rims extending another hundred feet in diameter encircled a single cylinder standing in the middle of the hall. Adam’s eyes went wide as he took his first steps toward the glowing light.

The Triune Sword seemed to detect the presence of the other Triune objects and it let out a chill note. The energy pulsing from the Sword surged out towards the pipes and cables that jutted out of the sealing cylinder. Ian fished out the other two Triune objects from his pockets. Both the Jewel and the Mirror hummed with the same chill note, each one glowing with the faint white light that seemed to envelop the room. So this is the energy of the Primes, Ian thought. He reached out his hand to uncover the cylinder when a voice spoke inside his head.

“Are you finally certain of your task Alpha Prime?”

He paused and turned.

“Come out Gaea.” Ian said. “I believe we need one last conversation.”

A familiar sweet smell came. Like the smell of flowers. And spring when such things still existed many, many years ago. The sound of rushing leaves and wind whistled and in a flash of unblemished sunlight appeared Gaea, the Last Oracle.

“Greetings Mistress” said Ian.

“And greetings to you Son of the Primes. Now you near your goal, it is just within your reach. Are you now certain of the destiny you took for yourself?”

Ian turned and looked at the pulsating Sword, aching to be joined with the Jewel and Mirror already in his hand.

“Should I be doubting?” He asked.

The Last Oracle hovered nearer and touched her ethereal hand to his face.

“All men doubt.”

“But I am not just a man.” Ian replied.

“True, but in you, with you, lies the fate of all men. Their hope or their destruction.”

Ian turned away, shutting his eyes against the overwhelming dream that now battered in his mind.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Yet you came all this way.” Gaea answered.

He looked up. Wondering what events are now unfolding inside the throne room.

“What about Deus, and Magus and Orus? What will happen to the Primes?”

Gaea followed Ian’s gaze, lifting her head towards the ceiling.

“They may survive and linger, or they may return to the Source. It is hard…to see. Even for me, the fate of the Primes is veiled, for they are as much linked to the mysteries of the Source as I am.”

Ian paused. His whole being in anguish over the distortion of the dream. He sees them again, a throng, a huge crowd of people cheering his name. Of banners flying high and of peace and joy ringing through all the corners of the land. He also sees the dark, of bodies piled and heaped all over him as he alone stands over the death and the decay.

Release.

Gaea hovered.

“So what do you do now?”

He reached out his hand and uncovered the seal on the canister. The light exploding in all directions.

“I do what I must.”

Grasping the Triune Sword, a chorus of sound erupted, like a million beings united in song and the light, warm and cool at the same time swept over him. Time and Space paused.

The Primes all stood still and said in unison, “It is to be decided then.”

Gaea watched from her perch in the Mountain, “the future is now uncertain.”

Ian gasped.