The Ballad of Omega Brown:
Kazar-Kai’s War
by Tom Vaine
|
Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
Omega strode into the war-room of the Deceiver, the god-blade’s voice echoing through his mind. Kazar-Kai’s energy was intoxicating. He could feel it passing across his body, like a current beneath his skin. Inside, an assembly of Warlords, his Warlords, stood around a holograph in the center of the room. High ceilings in the war-room, and the bright contrast of the hologram against an otherwise dark background, brought their faces into stark relief.
Despite their various species, they all shared similarly grim expressions. He regarded them all, savoring the flow, basking in the power of the weapon at his side. The living cat’s eye in the weapon’s crossblade stared out, flicking its hungry gaze across everything it could perceive. When he opened his mouth, the god-blade spoke through him. “Where is our prize?”
One of his lesser Warlords, Tair’Khan, replied, “The main bulk of the Hive fleet has moved, Avatar. They’ve left a resistance behind to hinder interlopers but seem otherwise unaware of our presence here. The artifacts remain in the Temple.”
“Good. Their fleet will not be an issue.” As the words left Omega’s mouth, it was as if he were only just now thinking of them for the first time. Kazar-Kai moved through him as needed. Provided that he let that happen, Omega could simply hang on for the ride. He wallowed in Kazar-Kai’s presence, submerged in the fullness of the ancient beings’ energy. Soon there would be violence, and the ecstasy the blade brought would crest. Omega clung to each second as Kazar-Kai led.
Across from him, the Warlord Tair’Khan watched in fascination. Bright, yellow eyes set into a dark, lupine face, he was covered head to foot in light combat armour strapped above a coarse, black and rust-red pelt. He stood as tall as Omega but was knotted in thick muscles, the knees of his powerful legs bent backwards like a pack hunter, long articulate fingers ending with cruel, spiked nails. He was an alpha of his people, born and trained to lead. The Warlord’s pack elders had told him stories of the Entropy Lords from millennia ago. Despite his role as a glorified scout here, there was no question in his mind about his place in this war room.
No, what piqued Tair’Khan’s interest just now wasn’t the god-blade, or the battle plan, but rather the scrap of a man Kazar-Kai clung to. It was baffling to Tair’Khan that so spineless a being could come into the possession of so great a weapon. And all because of the mark this fool had caught on his hand. Tair’Khan risked a glance at his own. His people had looked high and low for any trace of a Prime Acolyte, but they were extinct. It had just been a lucky roll of the dice for this lout, really. Right time, right place.
Now Omega Brown was at the head of an army, joined with Kazar-Kai and made into the Avatar, and beneath it, Tair’Khan was sure, largely ignorant of the real power he held. The blade was using him as a willing puppet, the man a passenger in his own mind. A human rag doll. Tair’Khan fought down a grimace, but the lure of the sword, the sheer intoxication of its presence kept him loyal. He tuned back in when he noticed the rag doll staring at him.
“Yes, Avatar?” The god-blade spoke again with that thrilling, roaring voice, “Warlord, we await your report.”
“Of course, Avatar.” Tair’Khan stepped forward and keyed the display; and the hologram changed. Now it showed an ice field beneath an overcast sky, a temple complex extending from the field to the mountain range behind. “The relics of Khet lie in three separate locations within the Templar’s compound. The first is external but that doesn’t necessarily make it easier to take.”
The display focused on a huge metal frame which had been built atop a veranda several hundred meters from the Temple doors. “The removal of Drone forces from the area will make things easier, but this is where we’ll meet the heaviest resistance. This relic is also the largest; while the others can be lifted by hand, the first will require mechanical aid and the destruction of the building beneath it.”
“We will lead the assault on each front,” the Avatar began speaking almost before Tair’Khan had finished.
Tair’Khan clenched his jaw and waited.
The Avatar took a breath before continuing. “Heavy resistance will not stop us.”
“Of course not, Avatar.” Even though he knew it was the blade he addressed, it was grating to speak to the face that Kazar-Kai had chosen. “While we know for certain the location of the first relic, the other two remain hidden somewhere within the complex. We believe the second to be somewhere here.” The view shifted again, focusing on a middle section of the Temple, without showing anything inside.
“Currently, the third is still beyond us, though we do have some suspicions. The crystal fields in the mountains defy our sensor scans and thus remain a possible target. Another possibility is the rumor of the deep vaults below the Temple. Once we have taken the first relic, things will become much easier; we can use the veranda as a staging point for the rest of our assault. Successfully taking the first relic will provide us with a direct route into deeper parts of the compou—”
“We will lead the main assault, as we have said. Warlord Barthax, your crew will take two transports and follow us down. Once we have created a beachhead, the rest of you may bring your warriors. Go now. Ready your troops.”
“Avatar,” Tair’Khan called, and then forced himself to ignore the other Warlords as they rolled their eyes. Tair’Khan was a leader amongst his own kind, but he knew he was little more than a glorified messenger in the Warlords’ minds.
The Avatar looked last of all. He regarded Tair’Khan in very much the same way the Warlord might look upon his own weakest whelp. “What is it, Warlord?”
“This reconnaissance mission was costly. Some of my best did not return.” The Avatar said nothing, so Tair’Khan leaned in: “My warriors would not appreciate the message that their best effort has earned them a place in our back ranks.”
The other Warlords turned away, hiding their mockery behind the knowing looks they gave each other. The Avatar, alternatively, adopted the posture of a weary parent. He moved around the holographic display until he stood within a foot of Tair’Khan. “Warlord.”
“Yes, Avatar.”
“Whose warriors?” He spoke in little more than a whisper, and, reaching up gently, placed a hand on Tair’Khan’s shoulder.
“Yours, Avatar.”
“Whose message?”
“Yours, Avatar.” Tair’Khan stifled the shiver running as the Avatar tightened his grip painfully on a handful of Tair’Khan’s fur.
“Whose ranks?”
“Yours, Avatar.” Tair’Khan balked, his eyes wandering to his feet.
Still holding Tair’Khan, the Avatar raised his voice, “We have given our orders. Go,” then he turned and left, leaving the rest to file out behind him.
Tair’Khan waited until the end. Shame kept him behind, and it stang, but it wouldn’t last. The sword was testing him. The old-god could feel his thoughts and could see he was a better choice than the fool it had become attached to. So what if Tair’Khan didn’t have the mark? He just needed to prove himself, and Lord Kazar-Kai would finally choose him instead.
* * *
Omega piloted his troop transport, breaking through the ozone layer and into the frigid atmosphere of the planet before him. This transport was his alone, modified to be independent of the Dreadnought and crewed by one person. He could even slave the other transports to his shuttle’s command if he needed to, though he hadn’t tried it yet. The Avatar, after all, often needed to take things into his own hands.
Omega felt exhilarated, his flight suit and helmet ready, the power of the god-blade seething in every inch of his being. This was when Omega felt most alive now, when he felt most attuned to Kazar-Kai. In these moments there was no fighting for control, no waiting for the use of his own body, no vague thoughts and apprehensions while Kazar-Kai was dormant. Here, in the moment of the attack, there was only connection, the old god opening itself fully to him. Conjoined like this, the Avatar was unstoppable.
Omega keyed the controls, preparing a preset escape route. The temple below was still far off, but the ground cannons had just begun hurling neon death. He laughed as the first laser bolts passed, drawing his transport out in a wide arc before cutting sideways across the firing field. He gave the cannons below him a fine look at his flank before spinning the vessel back into a plummeting dive.
The bait worked beautifully. The sky was full of destruction now, but Kazar-Kai’s power gave Omega extraordinary speed, and his hands were almost precognitive in their reactions. The transport skipped between the empty spaces, and Omega could see it was nearly time to introduce himself properly. He opened the hatch, the straps on his seat shaking as they fought to keep him inside.
At the last possible second, Omega punched the final key sequence and undid his seat straps. His chair tipped him back as he did it, launching him neatly into the pressure stream created by the open door. After Omega cleared the portal, the ship banked away, streaking back off in the direction he’d come from.
Omega fell, the momentum of the ship slinging him towards the ground. The guns below fired in confusion, some of them tracking the fleeing vessel while others took potshots at the bizarre projectile he had become. Before him, Omega could see his target: the domed structure atop the great veranda. He flicked his rocket boots on and adjusted his fall to aim for the side of the dome itself.
Omega undid the catch on his scabbard, the skin of his scarred hand itching with anticipation. Despite the windy force of his fall, he drew the god-blade from its sheath. The weapon howled as it cut the air, and Omega brought it before himself. He could feel Kazar-Kai focusing its energy, the blade growing white hot, turning Omega into a bolt of human lightning.
The Avatar’s meteoric dive smashed through the dome’s side, gouging a rough trough across the cobblestone floor of the veranda beneath. Its defenders didn’t know what hit them, couldn’t even guess until the first of them saw a figure leap from the crater to land gracefully at its edge. The few Drones present went first, the Avatar tearing them down as the sword shrieked in his hand. Then he turned to the Temple guard.
When the last defender fell, the Avatar faced the veranda’s arched entrance. Outside, he could see a mass of troops streaming out of the temple towards him, Templars with common soldiers and, here and there, clusters of Hive Drones. This was the main thrust of their troops. Even without the heavy cannons, the Avatar would have a difficult time standing against them all. They couldn’t have been more obliging of his plans if he’d have asked them himself.
Right on cue, the mass of storm clouds above and behind the temple began disgorging his assault craft. Their heavy guns were bombed to shrapnel, the barrage pausing only long enough for the assault ships to leave the entrance unharmed and then drop the rest of their payload on the unprotected troops scrambling to get back inside. The few that did actually reach the veranda wished they hadn’t.
The Avatar could hear his troop carriers landing in the snow fields behind the dome, as the assault ships spun back for another pass. His army had come. He waited for the first of his Warlords to arrive and finish securing their beachhead. The battle was over.
* * *
Months before, back when Omega was still traveling with Hoonra, back before the universe and his place in it were changed irrevocably, he and his bodyguard had been hired to locate some miners who had been lost in a cave system too dangerous for their company to manage. The place had been filled with all sorts of nasty little critters — and a few very large ones — but what made it particularly maddening was the way the tunnels kept leading them back out.
No matter how hard they tried, neither he nor Hoonra could seem to find an entrance which led them any farther than a few dozen meters into the rock before twisting and turning them back out to about the place they’d entered. Hoonra had been so bothered by this trick that she’d eventually tried to start drawing a continuous line wherever she went within the caves, just to be sure she wouldn’t retrace her steps. It had taken them hours of marking, and remarking, until they’d finally found the only alcove which led farther into the network.
Omega found that the forward command station, which had been erected underneath and around the remains of the veranda, was very much like this. In fact, all of the architecture he had encountered in his new role seemed to fit this description. Though the hallways were lofty, they were not brightly lit. Low track lights ran along the floors, aided slightly by the dim recessed bulbs above. Darker blue and purple tones coloured the walls, seeping out from the corridor paneling, but these did little more than show where one could not go. The whole effect was disorienting.
Omega had ordered the Shifters, which stationed themselves in intervals about the place, to increase the brightness or build a series of obvious signs, anything that might help, but the creatures had acted as though they couldn’t understand what he spoke about. It was an issue they seemed to suffer from occasionally and only on particular subjects. He’d let the matter rest.
Omega found himself at a crossroads and stopped. Every direction, including the one behind him, looked identical. When Kazar-Kai controlled him, these tunnels were never a problem, but they became labyrinthine when the blade went dormant.
“You look lost.” He hadn’t heard Kitt approach, hadn’t known she was there until she whispered to him, her hands falling lightly on his shoulders. He jumped, and she laughed. “It’s just me, oh wise Avatar, no need for alarm. Something on your mind?”
“No, nothing. Well, actually, I was just wondering where you were.” Kitt arched her brow.
“Of course.” She said nothing else as she took his hand. Certainty flowed from her touch, an affirmation through intimacy which Omega had begun to crave. He followed, as she led him to his quarters.
Later, Omega stood by an image above the table in his private quarters. The projection simulated the space outside Kazar-Kai’s ship. In the near distance, perhaps a few thousand meters out, automated machines bustled around numerous scaffolds.
There were three building sites, so to speak, each connected to the others by the steady streams of construction machinery. When he zoomed in, Omega could see the structure from the veranda being moved into a central place between the sites. Scaffolding was already being constructed to reach it.
Kitt approached, wrapped only in a bedsheet, sliding her arms around his waist. “You’re tense.” She leaned into his shoulder as she spoke. She had been a companion to him these last few weeks, but Omega was damned if he could remember when, or how exactly, she’d shown up.
Instead of pressing the issue again he said, “More so, just curious. A bit more of that thing gets finished every day. All those artifacts and parts we keep working for.” He turned and she looked up at him, concerned.
“What is it?”
Omega smiled, feeling awkward. “It’s funny, but it’s almost like old Kazar doesn’t want me to know.” He searched her face. He was admitting, he realized, something that might not be safe, but Kitt gave no sign she was shocked.
It was just that he felt so much trust for her; it was a pull that bordered on instinct. Her eyes were dark, her hair a smokey corona about her face; she drew him always, but he found her hard to focus on, more like a memory or a promise than an actual flesh and blood person.
“I mean I feel why I need those things when he’s with me, you know? When he fills up my mind. But it’s like he takes it all with him when he goes. What, uh,” he searched for the right words, “what do you think that means?”
“Who cares?” she brought her hands up to his chest. “Let the management worry about things like that.”
“The management?”
“I mean the sword. I don’t think all those details are worth your time. Put them behind you. I thought you told me you were tired of living with worry.”
“I was, but details?” Omega almost laughed, stepping back, “I mean, it seems like a bit more than that, surely. We’ve been to over a dozen planets across Syndicate space now, looking for these things. I can only imagine what our work has done to some of those places; I know the Syndicate is terrible, but at least it’s stable. We’re just disrupting everything. It’s true, the Dreamer has to be stopped, but some of the fighting has been pretty intense. It’s lucky we only ever fight Drones. If we were out here hurting, just people, you know, regular soldiers even, I don’t know...” A grimace passed over Omega’s face. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his scarred hand.
“Something wrong, Omega?”
Copyright © 2023 by Tom Vaine
