Tell me about Thorlinthia

Phoenix Day

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Wed, 23 May 2012 21:47:25 GMT

Darkness surrounds you. It's a sensation not at all unfamiliar to you, but you still find it disquieting. In darkness, one is unable to respond to visual cues because there are, in fact, no visual cues to which one can respond. It is this singular awareness, however, which allows you to sharpen your other senses. You close your eyes. They are useless to you at this time, so they may as well be rested for when they are needed once more. Right now, you only need your ears.

You hear a disturbance approximately 45 degrees left of your forward position. You turn your head ever so slightly in response, careful not to move so quickly as to make a sound. Your armor may be silent, but the mud in which you hide is full of air pockets which could burst at the slightest motion, causing movement and sound, both of which would be your enemy right now. You increase the sensitivity of your armor's microphones, listening more intently to the gentle noise of silence.

The noise occurs again. This time, you recognize it. A sneeze. Though the mud muffles most of the sound, it is clear that one of the guards has moved. Your opportunity has arisen. You rise slowly and silently out of the mud which has been hiding you for the past four hours. A thin layer of the mud had dried into a crust atop the mudpool, and you press gently through it, now grateful for the darkness which envelops all of you. You open your eyes, switching your armor's screen to an ultrasonic reflection display. Now, the field is yours. You reach out slowly toward both guards, unable even to smell you due to the fact that you now smell exactly like the mud surrounding the entrance to this facility. In the final moment before reaching the guards' bodies, you accelerate, your eyes shining a vibrant green inside your armor, and you see the screen reflect a slight amount of the light back to you inside your helmet as your hands crush the skulls of the guards who find themselves unable to react in any manner due to the fact that you had initially deactivated gross motor control in their brain with a specific electrical signal through your gauntlets. No alarms would go off tonight.

Upon the final reflexive twitches of the guards, you remove one's identification card and place it inside the card receiver of the door's entry system. Grabbing the guard's skull, you hold his eye open, still warm, and place a small electrical impulse across the optic nerves, causing the iris to contract in apparent response to the light produced by the optic scanner. Upon confirmation that the door is unlocked and open, you cast the guard's corpse aside and enter the building just as you wirelessly create a small loop in the security cam footage showing the door close itself as if the guard had decided not to enter and continuing to show an empty entrance hall. The technology of these primitive people never ceases to baffle you. It's so ineffective against electrical interference at the appropriate signal strength and wavelength. You continue onward, looping the past four hours of footage, preventing any viewers from noticing some small, repeated detail. Today had been entirely routine, and the second half of every shift was exactly like the first half on such days as this.

You reach the staircase and momentarily simulate a continued short between the sensors on the door as you open and close it, giving the interpreting circuit the impression that the door was never opened, preventing the need for another open/close loop like you had performed earlier and which would be entirely inexplicable right now, since the spaces on both sides of the door were clearly shown on camera as being empty.

As you approach the twentieth floor below entry level, you use your armor's ultrasonic reflection system to perform a momentary scan through the wall of the adjacent hallway. There are three men in it, conversing with one another in a casual manner. You prepare your armor-mounted railguns to fire small, metallic darts at the men as you enter and wait for them to report normal conditions. This is performed every hour, and they will not be missed for at least twice that time. You bypass the door's sensors just as you did twenty floors above and execute the men where they stand without even making it through the door. The men fall to the ground with the darts lodged inside their brain stems. You now walk carefully through the hallway, making note to use your armor's sensors to check around every corner before you approach it and killing every guard you encounter with precise strikes to the medulla oblongata.

After approximately one hundred fourteen seconds of walking through the halls, you reach your destination: a small cell designated with the identification code, 4XT. You quietly knock in a form of code you learned from the Kuli, Jil'Hanr, before departing the Watch several months before. Simply put, your encoded message states, “The door is opening. A friend is waiting. Do not attack.” A small response is picked up only by your sensors in the affirmative. You use a specially made keycard to bypass the door's security features, and you open the door quickly as alarms emanate through the facility. You toss an explosive charge in the direction from whence you came. It explodes after a short delay, enough for you to protect the room you had just entered from the brunt of the explosion.

Your helmet opens and folds swiftly into the neck of your armor as you reach out to Kahlisa, who recognizes you immediately and grabs your hand with three of her own. Her arms have weakened greatly during her time here, and you find a certain uncomfortable ease in pulling her to her feet. The last time you had seen her, she had weighed more than five times her current weight and had been in prime health. Now, her gaunt eyes looked to you for guidance. You activate your armor's remote hype commands, a design of Drigondii's own ingenuity. The TAS Valkyr 53, your beloved ship, hyped directly into the location which only now contained enough space for its presence.

You take Kahlisa inside your ship and close the main entrance hatch. Outside, the hull of Valkyr 53 begins to superheat and melt the metal supports inside the facility's structure. Kahlisa had been the only non-criminal resident of this facility, and it now houses only the most dangerous of Earth's men and women. Every other cell designated with an XT had been emptied of its bodies long ago. Only Kahlisa was trained in the ways of the Deep Sleep which had kept her alive without any nourishment for the past several years. It is a pity even now, as you contemplate the lives of those visitors which had desired only a peaceful contact with this barbaric planet's people.

The facility begins to collapse, and you activate your ship's hyping procedures. The drives roar to life as they perform an exit hype to the planet's thermosphere, and you cringe at Kahlisa's sickened reaction to the imploding sensation. Upon completion of the procedure, you activate the final charges, which you had placed at the bottom of the mudpool before execution of your mission. The 15 kiloton nonnuclear explosion destroys the entire bioweapon testing facility in moments without a trace of its contained contaminants or occupants. It is the first of many such strikes to be completed this day, but it is the only one with a high-priority rescue involved.

You strike up your communications system and listen in as your husband, Drigondii Sheii'Cronell, finishes the unprecedentedly peaceful occupation of the planet and his takeover of Earth in the name of the Thorlinthian Empire. Today would not be forgotten. April 1 would never again be known as April Fool's Day but would rather be known as Phoenix Day, the day the Earth was reborn in its own ashes.

Declaration

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Wed, 09 May 2012 01:44:54 GMT

Drigondii Sheii'Cronell slowed his Dragon 52-F and brought it to a stop inside the storm. Its electrical activity would be perfect cover against aerial attacks. “Sir, we've arrived. Dragon Riders are in position, and coordinates are set. All conditions are go.” The call went out over the Dragons' encrypted comm units. It was time to begin.

“Very well,” Drigondii responded. “Remember the plan. No one gets in or out until I'm done. You know what to do. Comm silence is hereby enacted until I declare otherwise. Execute.” He plotted his own set of coordinates and waited. The first stage of the operation would be over in forty-five seconds at most. Dragon Riders were second in skill only to the Valkyries, and they were all busy with vital, solo missions elsewhere onworld.

His greatest concern went out to Terira. She had said that she'd be careful, but she never was, as evidenced by her mission to the Watch. Nonetheless, that had been the most important discovery in Thorlinthian history. His wife always picked the most dangerous missions, though, and he hated it, just as she hated what she knew he was doing now. In fact –

Drigondii looked at the clock just in time. The second stage was ready to begin. “This is going to be an interesting experience,” he said to himself. What he was about to do hadn't exactly been perfected yet, but he was sure he could do it. Focusing, he activated the internal hype system that he had designed and which resided only in his Dragon. He prayed that his coordinates had been accurate and exhaled completely just as the Hype Driver approached the appropriate level. “Why does this always hurt so much?” His helmet closed, and he imploded.

Drigondii's legs tensed as he dropped into the UN's general assembly meeting. The representative of China was speaking, but he came to a stammering halt when he saw a grown man in the fully decorated flight armor of a Sheii'Cronell hype into the room about ten feet above the ground and drop onto his feet as silently and elegantly as the nimblest of felines. Then the helmet opened. He simply back-stepped away when Drigondii began to approach him, Drigondii's irises shifting in an almost liquid manner from blood red to a gentle mahogany. He stopped only when he realized that Drigondii was approaching not him but the podium.

Everyone in the room had their breath held, waiting for the security and bodyguards that would never arrive. Those men were all dead, carefully eliminated by the other six Dragon Riders, who had been vehemently training for this moment the entire trip to Earth. No help was arriving for these men until Drigondii was finished with them.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of these United Nations of Earth, I come to you on behalf of the Empire of Thorlinthia.” Drigondii spoke these words carefully, allowing the translators to realize that their jobs were now a million times more important than they had ever been before. “I have not come here today to kill you, though you should not feel as if that means I won't. I am here to declare an occupation, one which is taking place at this very moment.

“I have 20 Spacecraft Ultracarriers in orbit right now. As evidence, I present you this.” Drigondii reached out with his powers, feeling for the subsystems of his Dragon, activating its hyping protocols and engaging the reactor. A moment later, Drigondii's Dragon 52-F was gently crooning its drives inside the General Assembly Hall, and he smiled devilishly.

The Assembly Members all stood and stifled a yell at this point, maintaining a remarkable composure about them, staying true to the fact that they represented their respective countries. Drigondii was impressed. “My name is Drigondii Sheii'Cronell, and I am your new Monarch. Those of you who do not wish to comply will be destroyed without mercy. If you fail to maintain order in your nations, your police and military will be taken and replaced by our own forces. I want you all to understand that–“

It finally happened. One of the members of the General Assembly began to charge toward Drigondii in an attempt to attack him. The other members looked on, waiting for him to be turned to ash. Surely, something would happen before he reached Drigondii, wouldn't it? But then, when he was only a foot out of reach of Drigondii, the man who had charged, the representative of China, found himself staring at nothing but air.

He faltered, unsure where Drigondii had gone. The other members watched in terror as Drigondii swooped low, catching the man by his hips and swinging him up and over his head. They stared in awe as a man in full, obviously heavy body armor flip forward such that upon landing, his left heel planted firmly into his attacker's jaw, and he continued forward, tearing apart the attacker's mandible and stopping with his other leg on the opposite side of his head. As Drigondii finished the turn, standing straight, still holding his attacker by the hip, he pulled the man's skull away from his neck, tearing his head in two by the mouth and pulling his spinal cord out of his neck, killing the attacker in what was possibly the most gruesome moment of each remaining General Assembly Member's life.

“Do not mistake my position as a sign that I am some weak politician!” Drigondii shouted at the men, who had almost all gone into shock. “I am not a weak or senseless man who will be assassinated and overthrown! However, nor am I God, who comes before all things and will undoubtedly judge me for what I do today. I am Drigondii Sheii'Cronell, and I am your present and future Monarch. You will not kneel before me for I am a man and not a god, but you will understand that you are all of you beneath me. This is not a lesson I am unwilling to teach.”

His eyes had returned in that moment of fury to the shining blood red unique to a Sheii'Cronell. It was a look of sheer, unadulterated, unfaltering power that he now cast over the General Assembly, and it was met with the appropriate reaction: raw, unimaginable fear. This was a new day, and the world would come to know the man known as Drigondii Sheii'Cronell.

33920-138-394-47

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 17:49:55 GMT

Your story begins with a fist. If you’re wondering whose fist it is, then it ceases to matter after the fist hits your face. The cold air must have lowered the sensitivity in your face, however, since you feel only pressure and a slight warmth on your skin. You hear a crunch. Your nose is likely broken, but you pay it no matter. Now, your fist has made contact with the face of another. This is the face of a bearded man. His hair feels soft in comparison to the bone with which your fingers soon become well-acquainted. A howling grunt emanates from the man. One down.

You open your eyes again. A blink has been completed. You make note of the 0.3 millisecond timespan of the blink itself. That means it has been 0.5 seconds since your nose broke. You count your adversaries. They count five. The man you just struck is still falling. When he hits the ground, they will count four. That’s still too many. Your eyelid begins to lower again. Your nose broke 0.9 seconds ago. Your leg extends upward to one of the slimmer men. You twist your heel toward his collarbone and pull your leg down. Contact has been made. Your foot feels warm against the man’s collapsing frame. You are barefoot. This is strange, but you are not swayed. Two down. Your arms swing out toward a common point: the center adversary’s temples. Contact has been made here, as well. His skull begins to collapse. Your eyes open. Your nose has now been broken for approximately 1.2 seconds. Three down.

The other two men are beginning to realize what they are witnessing, but it’s too late for them. Their guns are 0.4 seconds away, and your fingers reach their eyes just as your foot contacts the ground only 0.2 seconds later. Your fingers hook into their sockets, and your arms pull them to the ground. You now register that the ground is metal grating. Contact has been made. Adversaries down. Your nose has been broken for 1.6 seconds. You reach toward your face and correct the misalignment of your nose. This is painful.

You take time to assess your current situation while retrieving your adversaries’ clothing and weapons, both of which you seem to be lacking. You are crouched on a catwalk inside some sort of warehouse. There are no windows. The walls are metallic. The temperature is approximately ten below zero centigrade. Your extremities are lacking any damage due to the cold. You haven’t been here long. Odd. You cannot recollect anything prior to the fist 45 seconds ago. You are fully clothed. It is time to move. But where do you move?

Up seems like a probable choice. Heat rises. You do not wish to expose yourself to unnecessary cold, and these clothes fit loosely. The men were rather large. You begin to wish that you had kept one alive to question regarding your current predicament, but the past is itself, and you cannot undo it. You head up the nearby stairwell, not knowing what you hope to find at the top.

You make it up several levels without further contact. Upon the tenth level, you encounter a hatch. It’s fully dogged, and you begin to wonder whether this is actually a warehouse. Suspicions rising, you open the scuttle in the center of the hatch slowly. You begin to hear footsteps and voices. You cock the smaller of your weapons, slinging the other over your shoulder. There will be no time for mistakes. You rise from the scuttle to find yourself in a narrow passageway. You already have your weapon trained on one of the approaching men. There are two. The chances of them being armed seem slim from their panicked reactions, but you don’t risk an underestimation. Keeping them beyond arm’s length, you speak. “What is this place, who are you, and where are we?” Your voice comes out ragged. You haven’t spoken in quite some time. The men seem even more shocked now. The man without a gun pointed at him speaks.

“This is The Leviathan. It’s a top secret research facility. I’m Nicholson, and this is Clayton. We’re scientists. I can’t tell you where we are because I don’t know. I do know, however, that that hatch is supposed to stay closed.”

This man is being oddly open for being held at gunpoint. His heartrate hasn’t changed since he saw the gun, which means he’s either experienced with this type of situation or he’s telling the truth. You try speaking again. “Why is it supposed to stay closed?” Perhaps this will yield more answers.

Nicholson just stares at the open scuttle from which you just came. The man Nicholson identified as Clayton speaks up this time. “There’s supposedly some sort of killing machine down there. Some new weapon.” Nicholson looks away from the scuttle, which you begin closing. You may have just been down there, but you don’t want to take your chances. You’re careful to keep the weapon trained steadily at Clayton. Nicholson speaks again.

“You know we aren’t supposed to talk about what’s down there, Clayton! And that’s just a rumor. Nobody up here actually knows what’s down there. What’s down there?” The question is directed at you.

“I don’t know what’s down there, either. It’s too dark. I just know that it’s really cold, and that people down there tried to kill me.” Well, there are multiple lies hidden there, of course. You were down there. You know that the temperature is about ten below zero centigrade and that the room is a large cargo hold or hangar of some sort about fifteen levels deep. You also don’t know for certain that the people who attacked you originally intended to kill you. Interesting. You hadn’t intended to lie, but there it was.

“Do you know me?” Maybe that’s why they’re being so compliant. You don’t hear footsteps yet, but you’re sure you don’t have much time.

Clayton speaks. “No, we don’t. But I don’t want to die, and neither does he. Please let us go.” Go? You pause to contemplate your own stupidity. Where are they going to go? As soon as you let them go, they’ll tell someone that you’re here. In fact, someone may already know that you’re here. Claytons eyes move away from the gun and toward Nicholson. They’re both clearly afraid. People in fear are stupid people. They get brave too quickly. You can see that running through their minds already. The golden blur of neural pathways firing is all too prevalent in their amygdalae. They’re planning an escape already. You can’t take that chance. While the two men are looking at each other, you quickly open the scuttle, grab Clayton and Nicholson, and pull them into the hold. On the way down, you close the scuttle. The whole process takes approximately 4.8 seconds.

You quickly unsling the larger gun from your shoulder and train it at Nicholson. Your smaller weapon is still trained at Clayton. You’re kneeling on the men’s chests now. It’s a much more controllable scenario, only now it’s cold again. It was so warm in the passageway, which had been twenty degrees centigrade. The men are gasping and gaping at the weapons only inches from their faces. At this distance, you don’t actually need the guns, but you don’t think they realize that. Appearances can be deceiving. The golden blur has dimmed away. Good. They’ve given up on escape.

“Now, perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell me what you’re researching here.” Your words are coming more readily now, but your voice still sounds foreign to you. You haven’t recovered yet. That’s an interesting thought. Recovered from what? The answer is hidden from you.

Clayton seems to enjoy speaking more than Nicholson. “Well, I don’t know about everyone else here, but Nicholson and I have been researching the psychological effect of having guns pointed at us. Obviously, we can’t tell you. It’s top secret.” This man is remarkable. Even under threat of death, he maintains a sense of humor. Or, perhaps, that sense of humor is a result of the danger. Either way, he’s funny. You suppress a smile. Nicholson looks at Clayton like he’s ready to kill the man himself.

“We’ve been working on oxygen production for long term space flights. We’ve managed a great deal in the four years we’ve been here. But we really don’t know what everyone else has been researching. We only know that all our research is both sponsored and outlawed by the UN.” That doesn’t make any sense. Why would this “UN” outlaw research and then sponsor it? Or did they sponsor it then outlaw it?

“I need somewhere safe to stay. Are your quarters private?” The scientists look at each other, and their brains light up like supernovae. Odd. They were afraid only moments ago.

They speak together. “Yes. We’ll take you there.” Wonderful, it seems some progress is being made. The three of you return up the scuttle, and you follow them down the passageway, regularly hiding in supply closets and laboratories. This facility is massive.

At last, you approach an area that says “Quarters”. There are several doors ajar here, but the lights in the passageway are a dim red to allow for sleep at all hours. A sign next to one of the doors says, “Nicholson, H. and Clayton, W.” The three of you enter the room. Inside, there are two twin-sized sleeping racks, two armoires, a closet, and a head. You aren’t entirely impressed, but it’s no pittance of a living, either. You tie the men to one of the beds to prevent them from escaping or trying to kill you while you sleep. You also lock the door for good measure. You use the head to take a shower and utilize the toilet. Afterward, you fold the stolen clothing, set the weapons beside your rack, and tuck yourself away to sleep.

You awaken to the sound of Nicholson and Campbell trying to wriggle free of your bonds. Indeed, they would have done so by now if you hadn’t thought to tie their necks to one another so tightly that they had difficulty breathing if they tried to move or call for help. You smile at your own brilliance. Of course, they also can’t swallow like that due to the immovability of their throats, so they’re also covered with drool, which you find disgusting. You sit up over the edge of the bed and stretch. Now to deal with these two. You don’t think Campbell will be much of a problem, but Nicholson will invariably become trouble quickly. Gagging them both, you cut the cords holding their necks together and spin Nicholson’s head around 180 degrees. A satisfyingly loud crack emanates from his spine, and he goes limp. A stifled scream comes from Campbell’s weakened throat. Looking at you, his eyes beg for mercy. You simply pat his shoulder gently. It’s not his day to die today.

You sort through Nicholson’s belongings and find a clean pair of underwear and socks in his drawer. You then proceed to put on an assortment of less conspicuous clothing than the gaudy clothes of yesterday’s attacker. You find a pale brown turtleneck sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. Luckily, Nicholson was a fairly small and thin man. These clothes fit you much better than your previous had.

You put on a few extra pairs of socks to make your boots fit better and a stocking cap to hide the fact that your hair is longer than the typical cropped cut in this facility. You then untie Campbell and warn him not to speak loudly lest he suffer Nicholson’s fate. He nods in agreement, and you ungag him.

In a panicked whisper, Campbell worked through his tears a few quiet words. “Why’d you kill him?! He didn’t do anything to you!” Odd. For some reason, this actually bothers you. You are compelled to answer Campbell’s question.

“I did what I had to do. Nicholson would have incited trouble, and I don’t need any undue attention.” This is true enough, but you don’t want to admit that you would just as soon have killed Campbell if you hadn’t been impressed by him so much.

Campbell buys it, but he clearly isn’t pleased. “Well, you’re going to get plenty of ‘undue attention’ anyway if you don’t hide those.” He nods toward you and looks at your chest for a very brief moment before his eyes dart away.

“Hide what?” You don’t understand. You haven’t picked up your guns yet, and you had planned to keep them under a leather topcoat. You look down. Are there bloodstains? No, there isn’t anything on your chest. You’re even more confused than before you thought about it.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re the only woman in the whole facility. Your, uh, breasts are… are rather obvious. And trust me when I say that anyone would notice those, even if they hadn’t been unable to see a woman in years.” You hadn’t thought about that. What’s the difference, anyway? Nonetheless, there’s nothing you can do to hide those without constricting your chest, which may affect reflexes and free motion. You pick up the guns, sling the larger one low, and place the smaller one into your boot. You tuck your knife into your sleeve and put your excess cords around your waist. After you’ve put on the topcoat, you look to Campbell.

“Is this any less conspicuous?” You give him a look that implores absolute honesty. He shrugs noncommittally and says it will have to do. “Good. Now, how do I get out of this facility?”

Campbell furrows his brow. “You don’t. This place isn’t exactly a part of the daily cityscape. I still don’t get how you wound up way out here.” Campbell looks at you questioningly, expecting you to explain just how you did wind up in the facility.

“Well, I don’t remember how I got here. I can only remember the past 6 hours, 4 minutes. I just know that this place is mobile. I can feel it.” This apparently comes as no surprise to Campbell. He shrugs.

“Ok, then. Should we go up, then? I haven’t been to the main deck in a few weeks, myself. I could use a little sunlight.” Campbell seems to be forgetting that he’s a hostage. That’s just as well. A happy hostage is a compliant one.

“Yes, I think I’d like that, as well. Maybe I can figure out where we are.” Campbell gives you a look that says he doubts it, but you show no sign of wavering. You place Nicholson’s body in a sleeping position facing away from the door and step away. “Let’s go.”

Campbell leads you into the passageway and toward a ladderwell. You follow him up the ladder three decks until you approach a hatch. Campbell opens it, and the ladderwell is flooded with light and warmth. You catch a familiar scent, though you cannot place it. There is a saltiness to it, but it is brisk and pleasing. The two of you step out, and you cannot contain a gasp. You’re on the weatherdeck of a large ship in the middle of the ocean. From the looks of it, you’re near one of the poles. That explains the cold and the winterwear, but what –

A loud burst of sound, a thudding sensation, and you find yourself short of breath. You’ve been shot. You look to Campbell. He’s holding a shotgun. He must have picked it up from one of the bodies on the deck. Why are there so many bodies? Campbell begins to pull the trigger again, tears coursing down his face. You won’t allow it. Your foot reaches the barrel before the hammer falls. The shotgun blasts shot into the air. By the time Campbell realizes you aren’t dead yet, your larger gun, a modified battle rifle, has proven to his face that he is. He drops. You swing the gun round. Just as you suspected, someone has come up to inspect the situation. He soon falls to the deck as well. You run as best you can to the superstructure. Your chest is in great pain, but you had been careful to conceal from Campbell the plates you had placed in the topcoat, which you now shed.

You head down the main ladderwell, exterminating any opposition you find along the way. You get to Deck Four and find the nearest hatch to the cargo hold. You hurry through the escape scuttle and run to the ladderwell you originally came up. When you reach it, you bolt down the ladder until you get to the place where your nose was broken six hours and forty-two minutes ago. You look about searchingly. There! On the deck of the hold below you, a small electronic device is laying innocently. You know better now. You leap down the remaining distance and pick it up. You run to the door nearest you. It’s ajar. You go through it and find the room where your clothes had been stripped away in search of the explosives you had already planted. In the hands of one of the dead men, you find your bag. You take it and run up to the weatherdeck as fast as you can, dispensing of all witnesses.

Your legs lead you to the side of the ship. Looking down, you can see the line to which your boat is tied from over a mile away. You climb over the rail, cross your arms over your chest, and jump feet first to the cold water far beneath you. The cold envelops you instantly, but you remain calm and keep your breath as you rise to the surface. You follow the line to your boat and pray that the device is as waterproof as you had been told as you cut the line to the ship. You squeeze the spring-loaded switch on the electronic device, and the facility which had been performing illegal experiments on particle beam weapons and privatized graviton propulsion for the past four years collapses upon itself as a small, controlled black hole forms inside it for twelve seconds before you release the switch.

You ensure that the black hole has died before putting away the device. You take your keys and open the cabin of your boat. Stepping inside, you grab your comlink. As you remove your stocking cap, you depress the side switch and speak into the com. “TAS Dragon King, this is Operative #33920-138-394-47. Mission accomplished. I could sure use a ride home. And a medic…”

A familiar voice emanates from the com. “Copy that, Terira. We’ll send your husband down with a Dragon 73C. You’ll be home in no time. A medic will be standing by on your arrival. Good job.”

Official Logo!

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 23:06:31 GMT

Here it is: the official logo of Thorlinthia!

Dragon 52F

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 23:02:36 GMT

Artist's Depiction of a Dragon 52F exiting a thunderstorm.

Homecoming

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 22:46:55 GMT

Drigondii Sheii'Cronell stood at the front of the bridge of the TAS Dragon King and looked down on the planet that he hadn't considered home for years. He had thrown Earth aside long ago along with his old life. There was nothing left for him on that pathetic Level IV planet.

“Orders, sir?” The admiral behind Drigondii was apparently fed up with his dawdle-some contemplation. And Drigondii had once thought Earth life to be too high-paced. But he had wasted thirty whole seconds, and it wouldn't be long before someone tried to fire an ICBM at one of the 20 ten-mile-long ships he now had stationed in Earth's orbit.

“Right,” Drigondii pulled himself back to the present. “Begin the EM assault and notify the chief that I'll need those fighters prepped before I hit the flight deck.”

“Right away, sir!” As the admiral relayed the orders, Drigondii began the long trip to the flight deck at the rear of the Dragon King. There were shuttles for ambassadors directly below the bridge, but he knew too many Earthers to think that they wouldn't try to shoot him down before he hit the stratosphere. He would need a ship capable of dodging bullets, and there were none better for the job than the Dragon 52-Fs. He still remembered the first day of flight school when everyone had laughed at the concept of so-called deflector shields...

“You've got quite the imagination, Excellency,” Lieutenant Civos had said when the Monarch had suggested the idea of an energy shield surrounding a ship that could alter the momentum of external projectiles. “That'd waste way too much energy, even if it could be done. Besides, it'd be easier to just hype 'em out of the way, and I don't know a single fighter that can power external hypes without burning out.”

At this, Drigondii had decided to shut up and pay more attention to dodging techniques.

“Excellency? Sir? I said you could get in the pulse-car now, sir. Ready to go... Unless you were planning on walking across the whole ship?” The young ensign looked a bit concerned for Drigondii's health. Then Drigondii realized that he had been walking next to the car, which was more of a maglev monorail, for a good five minutes.

“Sorry about that, uh... Ensign Carden. Just got lost in thought for a second.” Drigondii got in the car and strapped into the seat right next to the young officer, who had obviously not expected him to do so. “So, why'd you join the Armada, Ensign? You seem overly patient for an Armadian.”

“My apologies, Excellency. I grew up on Valhal, sir, and we have much longer days. There's more time to get things done during the day.”

“Isn't the Valhallan day about 23 hours long? How is that a long day at all?” Drigondii remembered the 24-hour days of Earth. How long they seemed now. He hadn't had more than 18 hours in a day in years. In that respect, he supposed 23 hours was a rather long time. "Anyway, we should get going."

The ensign nodded. "Aye, sir." Carden rotated against the throttle, and they were off. It was only a matter of minutes after that to get to the hangar bay.

Upon his arrival, Drigondii remembered why he loved this part of the ship so much. The deck was stained with lubricant, there was a constant noise of men shouting, tools grinding, and drives winding up. It was almost like being back on Earth. He headed to the nearest wound-up Dragon and started up the ladder.

"Good luck, sir!" Carden's excitement was apparent in his voice as he looked up at Drigondii. Drigondii smiled back, and set his subframe into its respective port into the cockpit, climbing in as the OS came to life. He could see the others in his squadron were already prepped and waiting for him.

"Dragon King actual, this is Dragon One. All conditions are green. Ready for exohype." Drigondii held his breath after the last word. He hated this part.

"Dragon One, Dragon King actual. All green, aye. Exohype approved. Good luck, Dragons." The radio lit up shortly as the other six pilots exchanged yelps and cheers, prepping for the most exciting moment of their lives. Then it was time. "Hype in three, two, one!" All seven pilots slammed their hype activators simultaneously as they hyped out of the hangar.

The familiarity of a hype does not aide in its discomfort. That feeling of implosion and simultaneous explosion always made Drigondii's heart race. Suddenly, he was out of the Dragon King and over the Earth's vast sky. Five, four, three, two, one...

The roar of entry fire surrounded his ship. He angled down more so that he may see his trajectory. His display showed that he was on track, straight into a large electrical storm approaching the eastern American seaboard.

Drigondii prepped the radio to hail the UN's headquarters in New York, where a summit was taking place at that very moment. This was it. He was back, and things were about to get very interesting.

Akrehd Khuda’Nahal

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 22:07:41 GMT

Thorlinthian Armada Flagship Fhit, KGT 2398273921:392:16:13

Inside the cold, dry bowels of the Qzceno-class warship, there was a deathly calm. A young man had just struck another man. The man who had just been struck was large and tanned. His facial muscles gave off no sign of emotion, but his bright green eyes had lit up like seven suns. He was livid. His cheek had reddened and was already beginning to show signs of bruising. A drop of blood fell onto his uniform, but it would not show on the dark red tunic.

The young man, on the other hand, had over thirty weapons aimed at him from all around the dining hall. He was panting, sweaty and bruised, but his eyes showed as much passion as those of the man he had struck. His arm was still stretched out as though time had frozen at the end of his swing. His hand showed signs of broken bones, and it was swelling rapidly. He also wore a dark red uniform, although he wore armor plating instead of a tunic and loose kilt.

One of the armed men nearest the two began to walk toward them, his weapon still aimed at the young, armored man. He spoke. “Fargerre Sheii’Cronell, you are under arrest for the assault of Grand Armadian Qzcihad Khuda’Cronell.” Upon this remark, he realized it was a mistake.

The armored Fargerre immediately turned toward him and smirked. He began to draw a blade from the back of his armor and walk toward the man whose weapon was now shaking violently in his hands. The sound of the drawing blade could be heard across the room as a deep, painful howl that rang out ominously. Just as the tip of the blade began to show, and Fargerre began to swing it forward, the silent Qzcihad reached out and grabbed his arm. The blade stopped a hair’s breadth away from the attempted arrestor’s neck. The man’s weapon fell to the ground with a pitiful percussion of clanks.

Qzcihad spoke loudly and clearly. His voice was deep and confident. “If you want a fight, you will fight in the proper environment. Men, stand down. We’ll be taking this fight to the training deck. Anyone caring to watch may do so, but no one must interfere. A Sheii’Cronell answers only to the Monarch and myself, so no arrests may be made in the event of this young fool’s death. Is this clear?” There were immediate responses from the men around the room in acknowledgement of the Grand Armadian’s orders. They then began to head out of the room into a narrow hall. The fight would be starting as soon as possible.

As the men left the room, Akrehd Khuda’Nahal fell to his knees. He had to fight a Sheii’Cronell, a legendary warrior with heightened senses and abilities that would make even the most experienced soldier shake with fear. The man had just struck the Grand Armadian for a simple insult, and it looked to Akrehd that his hand had broken from the force of the blow. Just as he was beginning to plan his escape, he heard the voice of Fargerre Sheii’Cronell mock him inside his own mind. ‘Are you really such a coward that you would run away from a simple brawl? I will use no weapons against you. You may bring whatever you wish, even that Verier 72 you are so fond of.’ At this, Akrehd knew he would not survive, but he stood at last, picking up his Verier where he had dropped it, and walked boldly to the last place he would ever see as a single tear rolled down his young, unblemished face.

Darwhan

dirk2@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra II) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 21:57:53 GMT

Fire was spread across the Fehmadadi sky. There was panic on the streets. A young mother was frantically searching for her daughter, who was only four orbits old. The daughter’s point of interest, however, was the young soldier to whom she had run. His name was Darwhan. His tall stature at 10 dinthets set him several thets above his colleagues. In each of his three sets of arms, he held a rapid projectile launcher, making him a seemingly intimidating figure. However, the girl knew better. He was her uncle, a very kind man who would only hurt someone if it was truly called for. He normally didn't even use a weapon. He was a shield engineer, dedicated to preventing injury. But today, as the sky was burning with the blue flames that this foreign enemy's weapons caused upon impact with the Fehmadadi fighters' ships, he was being called to the infantry in case of a ground assault.

Darwhan stooped down and set his uppermost weapon in its holster on his back so he could pick up his niece. “Kahlisa, defri bara?” 'Kahlisa, what doing?' he asked.

“Kahlisa jibah felof Darwhan kired.” 'Kahlisa wanted see Uncle Darwhan.' she looked up into his face. His eyes were sad. “Defri perwha Darwhan kired?” 'What wrong, Uncle Darwhan?' This perfect example of innocence did not understand that the fire in the sky was an attack on the planet. Kahlisa only knew the joy of celebratory sky-fires. Darwhan smiled at his niece kindly, hoping at least she would survive this whole ordeal, but as he looked up at the first ship to reach below the clouds, he knew it would not be so.

The 50-plinthet-long ship was long and elliptical, much like a medicinal capsule, but with a bulbous aft. It was 10 plinthets in diameter along the length of the ship, and the bulb at the end was 20 plinthets in diameter. There were thousands upon thousands of massive ten-thet guns constantly raining fire upon the Fehmadadi Defense Force. The propulsion systems were a crude replica of a Fehmadadi Time Drive, but well-enough made that there were no apparent signs of singularity erosion. Just when Darwhan thought he had seen the worst these ships could dish out, he saw them. Emerging from a port in the back of the ship, thousands of smaller ships were pouring out like a blizzard of metal. They were as the darkness, silent but fearsome and deadly. Each smaller ship had two guns that fired hot plasma in small bursts at nearly 30 bursts per camth. They rained fire upon the Fehmadadi fighter ships. The Fehmadadi Defenses had quickly been withered down to a mere ground force.

“Sha filan jibah serai kalaha. Defri kha bara serai kalaha?” 'God didn't want such things. What devil does such things?' Darwhan's answer was to be soon at hand, for the enemy's smaller ships were returning to their larger ship. When Darwhan looked around for the savior that caused this retreat, however, he saw only several more of the enemy ships gathering up their small fighters. It was then that the voice burned down into his mind and those of his companions and niece. It spoke in the universal language of ideas.

'You came to our worlds and fired upon our convoy. It was then that we took it upon ourselves to fight back. When we disabled your great time ship, we studied its technology thoroughly until we were able to build our own ships even greater than yours so that we may destroy such a powerful enemy. You have been judged by the Great Monarch himself. He has demanded your demise. We assume this means you are the dreaded Murhans. You must now be destroyed.'

The larger ships retreated then into the sky, and the voice boomed through the Fehmadadis' minds again. This phrase was repeated over and over again: 'We are Thorlinthia. You are sin. We are justice. You will die.' It boomed through everyone's brains as if the entire civilization was screaming it at them at the same time. Everyone hit the ground screaming. Everyone did but Darwhan. He looked up now, Kahlisa screaming in his arms to make it stop, and he saw one more ship through the clouds. It was far up, possibly even still in space, but Darwhan knew it was these Thorlinthians' tool of supposed judgment. Whatever was about to happen, it was going to be painful. Darwhan then noticed that next to him was a strange looking creature. It was some sort of bipedal mammal. It stood tall, taller even than Darwhan. It looked over at Darwhan, calm and collected. It reached gently into his mind and silenced the shouting of the Thorlinthians. It then spoke coolly into his mind. 'I am sorry that this moment has come, but it has come nonetheless. I am Jil'hanr. I am a member of a group of students of the universe called the Kuli. You share some of our abilities.' A flash of strange incidents through Darwhan's early life where Darwhan had exhibited unknown talents flashed through his mind. He had learned to control these abilities at will, but rarely used them anymore. They seemed unnecessary at most times. 'You have potential to become Kuli, and our members are few now, so I cannot allow you to die today. Come with me.' A ship shimmered into appearance behind Jil'hanr.

'May Darwhan take Kahlisa with?' Darwhan asked. 'Kahlisa has exhibited the same mind-speak ability Darwhan has, and Darwhan feels that more abilities are beginning to show.'

'Only if, on your command, she is able to shut away the pain the Thorlinthians are inflicting on her. You must be quick, however. Time is not on our side.' Jil'hanr stepped toward his ship, seeming anxious to leave.

Darwhan reached into Kahlisa's mind and told her to shut off the pain and follow him. She asked how, and he told her that she would just have to know how to do it herself. She immediately lifted her head and stopped screaming, drying her own tears and said, “Kahlisa berof.” 'Kahlisa is ready.' Darwhan walked into the ship.

Jil'hanr closed the door. It stepped towards the main console in the center of the entry room, which seemed to be the only room. 'The Thorlinthians have mistaken your race for mine, I'm afraid. They have been brainwashed, it seems, to wish revenge for being lunged into a new universe. We don't know what has happened in the past few star-cries, but your race seems to have reopened the Galaxy Tear, and provoked the aggression of the now bitter Thorlinthians. We should leave now.' When its phalanges touched the console, the walls lit up into a piloting display more advanced than Darwhan had ever seen.

The ship quickly and silently rose up into the upper atmosphere, where Darwhan could better see the Thorlinthians' Armada. There were at least 200 of the large ships. When Darwhan saw this, he gasped. Jil'hanr spoke again, 'The Kuli fleet was once a hundred times larger, but when the Galaxy Tear first opened, its trembling in space-time destroyed most of it. Only a few ships remain, and we are not in a position where we can yet expand our fleet once more. We are rebuilding our numbers once more, but we are not yet enough to stand up to the Thorlinthians. They were once a peaceful civilization billions of years ahead of your technology, but the Galaxy Tear destroyed their star system's equilibrium. No one could have predicted that the peaceful Linthians would become these bloodthirsty scavengers.'

Darwhan had a hard time believing these devils were once a peaceful people. He then saw the judgment ship again. It had a bright red orb hovering directly above it. As soon as Darwhan thought that it might just explode, and his people would be saved, Jil'hanr turned to him, shook its head, and said, 'Watch.'

Darwhan watched as the orb descended into the ship, pressing into a disk of light. The ship then began to spin rapidly, causing the disk to expand. Darwhan noticed that another disk was expanding on the other side of his homeworld. When the disk had expanded beyond the breadth of the planet, the ship passed through the disk. The disk then fell like cloth around the planet, covering an entire hemisphere. The other disk covered the second hemisphere. When the light faded away, all signs of the planet having borne life at any point were gone. Its oceans had been frozen into two icecaps, its green terrain had turned red due to oxidation, and the great buildings that had once stood tall in the cities had turned to dust.

'This is a power of the Deceiver, an opponent of the Kuli that has existed since our rise to power. They had been killed by the Galaxy Tear but for one student who had only just learned this ability, which they call Glascing. It is only one of their powers. Its destructive power is great, but it comes at an even greater price. Every Thorlinthian on those two ships is now in a comatose state and will die in eight days.' Jil'hanr's face expressed what Darwhan could only describe as an avid disgust. The expression was only there for a moment, but it was as intense as Darwhan's newly-founded nausea for this Deceiver. Then it was gone. Jil'hanr spoke. 'We are about to enter worm-space. It is a bit more turbulence-ridden than your Time Drives, but it is faster, and it does not involve damaging the universal balances. You will learn about those in your studies. Brace yourselves.'

It was then that Darwhan realized Kahlisa had been listening as well. She had also located securing mounts on one side of the room and positioned herself into one. Before Darwhan could do the same, Jil'hanr lifted one set of phalanges up into the air, curled them into a ball, and plunged it into the console. The console began to rapidly wrap itself up around its arm like a vine. Once it had wrapped itself sufficiently around Jil'hanr's arm, it hardened again, and the ship imploded.

Or at least it felt like it. It had actually entered another field of space-time. Darwhan had not been prepared for this and was now being thrown violently around the ship as it wove its way through what seemed to be a sort of asteroid field. 'This is worm-space. Space correlates randomly to each of these gateways. Only by using the mind-feel ability that all Kuli are trained to use can one navigate worm-space. Flying in worm-space prevents enemies from following us. We are almost there.' Upon these words, the ship flew straight into one of the asteroids and imploded again.

The first thing Darwhan noticed was that it was very bright. Then he realized that he was not being tossed around anymore. After that, he noticed that he was on a sort of bedding-like nest that was very comfortable. He looked around for Kahlisa. He didn't have to look for long. She was in the nest next to him, sleeping. He then looked for Jil'hanr. It was standing behind him, talking to another member of his species in a very aggressive manner. They were not using the mind-speak, so Darwhan had no idea what the topic of their discussion was, but it was apparent that they did not agree at all.

“I don't care what was about to happen to their planet; the members of that planet aren't ready to be taken in for Kuli training! These creatures are not advanced enough in their development. Now if they fail the Entry Carbint, they will have nowhere to go.” These were the sounds coming from the creature, but Darwhan had no idea what they meant.

“I think the larger one is ready, and the little one would not make a bad Soretto for him. We used to be protectors of the Great Galaxy, but now that our own handiwork has been turned on others, we aren't going to clean up after ourselves?! We helped create the Thorlinthians, and we should help destroy them!” Jil'hanr was adamant about whatever they were talking about.

Darwhan attempted to communicate with Jil'hanr's conversation partner, “Garf'kan, Jil'hanr farjin Darwhan.” 'Excuse me, Jil'hanr saved us and we have no home left – we must stay.' Upon this apparently unexpected use of the mind-speak, the creature turned to Darwhan surprised and said, 'My friend, that is exactly the problem here. I am afraid your people were not yet advanced enough to be brought here and the initiation required to stay may kill you. If you do not go through the training, then you will surely die as this is only a monitoring station with limited facilities – making the training a requirement if you stay.' Darwhan was saddened with this creature’s lack of hope for them.

Darwhan said, 'My people don't believe in fear in the face of ultimate choices. If the choice is mortal danger or death, we choose mortal danger.' Darwhan was quite adamant at this point. After seeing his planet turned to rust, he had nowhere to go. The entire Fehmadadi fleet had been brought back to Fehmadad to stand up to those Thorlinthians, whose aggression was apparently due to these Kuli. 'The other members of my race are all dead because of your people, and I ask that we be given the chance to live!'

Now Jil'hanr spoke. 'Darwhan, you have every right, in my opinion, to become Kuli, as does your niece.’ Jil’hanr proceeded to speak to the other, “I will administer the Entry Carbint myself. There is no need to worry about either of them failing.” It nodded, now willing.

As the creature walked away, Jil’hanr turned to Darwhan and said, ‘The Watcher is very strict, but he will remain true to his word. You’ll be given your chance to live.’ As the Watcher entered his private chamber, he grinned. His son acted and thought exactly as he, J’Homria, did at that age. Exasperated, he began to chuckle. This Darwhan was indeed from a wise race. It was a shame his niece would be the only Fehmadadi Kuli.

The Journal of a Traitor

dirk@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra) — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 05:19:00 GMT

The Journal of a Traitor

I didn’t realize I was a traitor at first. I thought our cause was just and we were cleansing the universe of evil. The gloomy creases beneath my eyes tell the tale of a dead man. The color matches the depth of darkness that has accumulated in my soul as snow gathers on ground in a blizzard. There is no beauty, only cold shifting drifts of death.

I am beyond redemption and if a true God exists she will most assuredly ask a high price for my soul – there is no one left to pay. Perhaps someone who hears my story will accept my final actions as a down payment and have pity on my soul.

I saved a life and allowed that one to corrupt the only innocent ones left. My story is a warning to any who may survive. The Thorlinthians are to be feared. They will come to hunt any and all who remain – if any remain. That though is not the warning. A way more dire truth awaits those who receive this broadcast.

Linthia was the best of us all. Their twelve worlds never wavered and they warned us all. We didn’t listen and they paid the price. Now they are separated from their history and on a mission to take revenge on the remnants of glorious Tyria.

The warning I have for all of you is that a Deep Deceiver’s assistant survived and has a reconstitution chamber. I ask you to hear my story and promise I will end it with a gift to all who survive.

A Traitor’s Tale

The sun was green in the evening sky as I arrived at the Academy of Truth. The morning star was long gone and I could hear the whispers of the ships that crossed the night sky. I knew that my journey had started and I would be a star in the new order. The universe would rid itself of the false truths of Tyria’s priests – the Kuli.

They claimed they were not priests. They claimed they were only guardians of Tyria. They claimed to be peaceful. Yet when the war machines of Tyria arose against the king they were designed and built with Kuli technology. When the soldiers of Tyria arrived they fought with skills and weapons provided by the Kuli.

However, they made a fatal error. They didn’t know about the king’s alliances with neighboring solar systems. They didn’t know about those systems’ alliances with their neighbors and so on. The Holy High Seer personally negotiated those treaties and others saving the lives of millions of the king’s subjects and creating the largest alliance ever seen.

My home planet was the third ally of the king and the first to feel the taste of democracy’s military persuasion. We informed the Tyria military that our space was off limits to its military ships. In their long dark ships, like thieves in the night, they rode the solar winds through the corner of our little area of the galaxy.

We met them between the Torotory Nebula and the Rings of Exiquer. Everyone thought that history would remember the Battle of the Rings as the beginning of the end of Kuli domination. Unfortunately the battle did not go well as the light cruisers were destroyed one by one. Beautiful white ships with gold stars on the tail section burning as their fuel pods exploded one at a time. The view was as impressive as it was devastating for my people.

In two days, the entire Torotory fleet was destroyed. We all thought the ambush would work and the Tyria battle group would leave our space. No one anticipated they would even fight and we never thought our 700 ship fleet could be destroyed by a five ship battle group.

The Admiral planned on the surprise and overwhelming force defeating the Tyria battle group. Instead of surrendering they split and went in five different directions as we pursued. After seven tetraines, one of our commanders fired on the first of the dark ships and instantly they all five stopped. Thousands of drones exited the portals of each ship and within minutes all of our ships’ drives were neutralized. When the Tyrians called for our surrender the Admiral laughed and told them “You will all die for entering our space illegally”. The Tyrians transmitted a truce from the time of the third Torotory Council that gave them transit rights through the Torotory Nebula and surrounding space for eternity.

The Admiral refused to acknowledge the treaty and called it a hoax. He asked for their surrender again and reminded them that they were out numbered 700 to five. The Tyrians, cowards that they are, started to fly away. The fleet all fired as one on the five ships expecting the dance of flames to carry away the anger at the arrogance of the Tyrians.

It is at this time that the lies of the Tyrians were revealed. Our weapons had almost no effect on their ships. It must be the dark magic of the Kuli that protected them. They claimed advancements in shimmer technology but we all knew that the dark powers of the Kuli protected them. We fought to the last ship and to this day all the survivors are heroes of the realm.

My father told me the tale as his breath wheezed out of the Cobor lung. Forever damned to live inside of a machine he begged me to carry on the fight. “Join the Holy High Seer and defend the right of the King”, he said. So here I am, forty sentaries later, at the great temple, the Academy of Truth, anticipating my initiation.

I am the chosen. From tens of thousands of volunteers they only selected ten. We will be dedicated to the High Council of Truth. It will be our job to sleep the long sleep and await the needs of the Council. I will have the honor of becoming a “core” for one of the Council.

The green cast of the evening sky draws eerie shadows behind the statues of the six members of the Council. As I ascend the staircase to the Temple of Truth I recall the secret of the steps. There are six sections of six sets of six steps as you climb to the Temple. The six sections represent the six members of the Council. The six sets represent the six areas of the galaxy they come from. The six steps symbolize the six Truths the Academy is built on. At the top of the staircase is one large door to the Temple that symbolizes the Holy High Seer as the guide for all who seek the Truth.

Every member of the Council is given a “core” of their own. One of the six Truths is “A person’s knowledge is more important than the person”. To this end, one of the highest priorities is to preserve the knowledge of those who know the most. To accomplish this every Council member regularly submits to a brain scan to record their knowledge. Then if anything happens to them the information is transmitted to their waiting “core”. The receipt of this knowledge automatically places the person on the Council to prevent the loss of knowledge.

By this method, the Academy of Truth protected its information against the greatest depravations of the Kuli and survived when everyone thought they were exterminated. To be selected as a “core” guarantees a seat on the Council. My family was so proud. I entered the Temple with great anticipation.

Three weeks later I had still not met the Holy High Seer and my training consisted of medical examinations. The questions mounted and the answers were few. After four weeks I was brought to an office where I met with one of the medical officers. They told me that I passed all the tests and was ready to begin my duties.

I asked what my duties would be and they said “To sleep”. Further queries did not elicit a response as I was led to a metal walled room. As a slab slid out from one wall I felt a shiver slide up my spine. For the first time my faith was challenged. This was not the program I signed up for. I laid down on the table.

My skin burns and I know I am in hell. My faith failed me and I did not find the heaven I was promised. I see nothing and my limbs will not move. The harder I try to move the more the pain increases and the greater the burn on my skin. Eternity never felt so long as it does now. How could things have come to this? These were my thoughts as awareness returned.

The medics finally removed me from my chamber. The light streamed through my closed eyes as my head exploded in pain. The first visions were of blinding light brighter than ever imagined. The pain shot into the center of my brain as if a metal pick was thrust through my skull.

They smeared an ointment on my naked body and it cooled the burning skin. They poured liquid into my eyes and the pain subsided as my vision returned. However, the pain had only started. Every organ in my body screamed as it restarted and the entire process took three days of excruciating pain.

Nothing in my experience prepared me for the truth about my awakening. I was not chosen to be a host for the knowledge of a Council member. The attendants informed me that I was chosen for my ability to survive a deep sleep. Why? The answers to the infinite number of questions did not come. Once again I spent my time going from medical check to doctor to medical check.

This time I did receive some information that only served to add questions. I was seven thousand sentaries in the future. The war was not going well. For a few thousand sentaries the forces of the King prevailed as the alliances brought additional systems into the fray, stretching the forces of Tyria to the breaking. However, the Kuli brought their dark magics to play and slowly turned the tide against the King and his allies.

I realized that much of my knowledge worthless and outdated. The current King was the great, great, great grandson of the original King and they all received longevity treatments. The current King was two thousand three hundred forty two sentaries. So what could I possibly contribute to the battle? I felt worthless, confused, and not a little angry.

They moved me out of intensive care into the main section of the medical facility. There was nothing I recognized anywhere. I could not operate any of the technology, the buildings were strange, the clothes did not make sense to me, nor did any of the constellations. On the fifth day I considered the possibility that I may actually be in hell.

On day six I opened my eyes to orange flashing lights. The triple moons of Crettium echoed through my room in pulses of intensity that seared my eyes even after they shut. The room shook and I bounced off of the walls as the universe appeared to end. Alarms sounded and voices screamed as panic filled the air. I threw myself against the door as fear filled me beyond the breaking point and my world went black.

The world around me was dark again as I awoke. I felt rough hands grab my arms and pull me toward a searing heat. I fought back as my brain reeled with the thoughts of being dragged by demons into the fire pits of hell. My right side screamed as it touched the burning door frame and I blacked out once more.

I heard music floating on waves of nausea through my mind. A sweet voice encouraged me to wake up and a soft hand held mine. My insides released their contents with a violence I never knew before. My body convulsed as if to protest its recent treatment. Too many shocks to the system and my body’s rebellion started. The next morning arrived with no rest and empty insides.

The music drifted in and out of my room with gentle caresses of soft sounds that remained to dance on my thoughts. The sweet voice continued to speak to me and finally I opened my eyes to an angelic face with deep green eyes and the sparkle of ages. She was beautiful and she was a Kuli medic. My heart sank and hope fled; I was in the house of the demons.

She saw me cringe and pull away. The smile faded and the music stopped as she realized that I knew. The dark magic only works if you let it and I planned on resisting. When I looked up again she was gone and only a medic was left. I looked around and saw no trace of her. I asked the medic where she went. He said, “who?”

I asked where I was. The medic told me I was on the medical ship Hristro headed away from the fighting. I asked if there were any Kuli on board. He laughed and said, “No one has seen a Kuli medic since before I was born. The Kuli medics all died sentaries ago and the few other Kuli that remain are in the thick of battle.” Then he surprised me. “Besides, there were only you and an old priest left alive so we don’t need that level of help anyway.”

The few days I was awake confirmed that our Truths had not changed and One of the Six Truths is: “No one can lead you to God because God is everywhere.” Therefore we have no priests, only teachers of the Truth. We believe that only those that God calls to her can come to her. So, we concentrate on knowledge and leave faith promotion to lesser groups. So who was the priest? And where did my “vision” come from?

Over the next few weeks I sleep, eat, exercise, and rest. I am alive, in enemy territory, and surely am bound for a prison. My sleep is deep and my worries are few as I am resolved to suffer quietly for my beliefs. My Kuli medic does not return and finally I meet the “priest.”

He is an old man with slight limb on his left side. There is a scar that runs across his right eye and all the way down to his neck. A bald head sat atop a thick neck where multiple tattoos declared him a priest of the Holy Order of Tyria. The Holy Order of Tyria is the oldest religion in the entire galaxy. They are huge supporters of the Federation and tireless proponents of requiring all planets and systems to be a democracy.

He smiled and embraced me as if I was his long lost son. “My assistant has returned to me” he said as he held my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes. When he hugged me again he whispered “act as if you have known me all your life” into my ear. I smiled at him and fell to my knees in homage. “Arise my son” he stated with elegance born of years of practice.

We went to his quarters where he turned on a small black box with three pyramids sticking out. Then he started to explain. He told the Tyrians that he was a prisoner on the planet they captured and that his assistants were missing. There were only three survivors and the other two were janitors in uniform. The Tyrians agreed to find him passage to his church in the outer edge of the galaxy in the Wetrig wing. We are almost there.

After we land we are escorted to the church where the staff clearly recognizes the “priest” and welcomes him home. They refer to him as their “light” and guide from heaven. It is hard for me to keep from screaming the “Truth” at the top of my lungs. The priest, also known as T’ Nouret, smiled and embraced them all one at a time. Time seemed to drag on forever as the sick charade continued for at least an hour.

After much ceremony we slept and awaited a new day. The morning brought a visit to the clinic where I was led to an underground bunker behind a secret panel. It was time for the truth to be told. T’ Nouret started with his job. T’ Nouret is a priest of the light and has been since his youth. He cautioned me to restrain my questions till the end and I settled back to hear the tale.

The Holy Order of Tyria requires all regions to submit candidates for priesthood based on the membership numbers of that region. The candidates must be younger than six years old and their training lasts until they are seventeen. At seventeen they undergo a complex surgery that sterilizes them to help avoid temptations of the flesh. T’ Nouret laughed at this and said “What a weak cover for the implanting of a hyperphase transmitter.”

I did interrupt and asked “Do you get sterilized?” T’ Nouret frowned a little and stated “Yes. They must do that to keep the cover.” He continued on and told of their placement with an experienced priest for the first ten years where they are watched day and night. At 38 the priests either disappear or receive their own church.

T’ Nouret paused and motioned for me to hold my questions. I was bursting with curiosity and his request was very difficult to honor. His manner became serious as he continued. “There are no priests of the Holy Order of Tyria that are not completely loyal to the Holy High Seer.” I think my world disappeared in a haze of confusion. These facts crashed against the sea wall of my beliefs with a thunder that roared in my brain.

He smiled as he noted my discomfort. “The evil needed to be purged from the galaxy at all costs” he said. He went on to explain how the Academy of Truth had tried for thousand upon thousands of sentaries to eliminate the Kuli to no avail. So they changed their master plan to include a supreme deception. The Holy Order of Tyria was designed as a counterpoint to Academy. While the Academy stayed behind the scenes and committed visible mistakes, the Holy Order was visible and appeared to stand against the beliefs of the Academy.

He continued, “the creation of “peace” was very successful against the Kuli. The galaxy did not need them and they faded away. When the war started they were almost extinct. The last Supreme Guardian died with no replacement as the plans had predicted. However, there were two unknowns that changed the course of the war and spelled doom for the Academy’s grand plans.

The first was the Kuli who took the deep sleep. The Kuli avoided products of Academy’s science as one would avoid the plague. Yet for some reason, two of them took the long sleep many times. The grand plans called for the loss of Kuli knowledge as the war dragged on over time and these two prevented that from happening.

The second unknown was the role of the peoples of the Galactic Wing. The Galactic Wing is one of the spiral arms of the Tyrian galaxy and is situated almost totally separate from the rest of the galaxy. This separation resulted in the entire arm being populated by one species. This separation also resulted in the war avoiding these people until the very end. We calculated that they would not entry the fray and at first we were correct. This arm made huge profits by selling arms and ships to both sides. The Grand Plans counted on this neutrality to last for the entire war. It did not as the Murhans, with one exception, sided with the Tyrians.

The center of the Galactic Wing is the home of the star system known as Linthia. The Linthians are the foremost proponents of neutrality in the known universe. It was believed that they would keep all the rest of the Murhans neutral. None of us could have predicted the side effects of the Virtrocet plague. The plague left all of the galaxy’s species, except the Murhans, with no connection to the life-force. This meant that all new Kuli came from the Murhans. As we targeted the Kuli more and more as the war progressed, the Murhans started to take this personally and they sided with the Tyrians. The entire Galactic Wing, except the Linthians, put their resources at the disposal of our enemies. The Grand Plans started to fail as once again the difference was the Kuli.

All of the forces of the Holy High Seer were ordered to retreat to the King’s star system. There they were to be the bait to draw the last of the Kuli into the open. The Holy High Seer was planning an ambush and we were all to participate. I was waiting with the final group at the hospital where you were revived when we were attacked.

The attack destroyed the facility that was the key to the ambush. Now the Holy High Seer and the remaining Academy members will have to fight it out with the remaining Kuli. We are doomed to miss the battle and the Tyrians sent us here thinking we are one of them”.

When he completed his story, I had nothing to say. Everything I believed over the years has turned out to be a deception and my life is in the hands of someone that spent his life living a lie. The religion I hated was created as a huge deception by those who preached the truth and I was assumed to be a loyal follower who understood this.

“What is our next step” I said. The smile that spread across his face chilled my bones as I started to realize that this priest still did not feel that the war was over. “We need to make sure that the Kuli do not survive. We must release the plague of Torusis. All of the loyal forces have immunity as do our spies. Soon we will rise again” he said. Almost as an exclamation point, the world trembled and we were thrown to our hands and knees.

For five minutes we bounced around on the floor as the world crashed around us. Never, in my experience, had there been an earthquake as devastating as this. When a piece of the roof fell in, I made the greatest mistake ever, I pushed the priest out of the way.

I saved the life of one of the most evil men I had ever known. The earth shook again and we both fell to our knees. Only the strength of the bunker saved us. Three days of repeated events left the entire planet in total disarray and with millions dead.

Hungry and weak we emerged into a disaster zone. All around us was destruction. I glanced at the priest and saw a smile cross his face. Evil and excited the look ran my blood cold as I realized how much he enjoyed the destruction around us. He loved it and soared with an energy that defied his years. I finally understood how wrong I had been over the years. If this was an example of “truth”, then I preferred the lies. I now know that I am a traitor to all.

Five secorits later, I watched the scout ship land. The planet’s defense system was still online and what little still functioned attacked the ship. They ease at which it avoided damage made it clear that it was the Kuli. The ship was a cruiser of great speed and we also needed that ship to escape. The priest had released the plague and now he wanted to put the rest of his plan into place. He believed that all over the galaxy people were going to rise against the Kuli once the plague hit and they could not heal the disease. All of the academy followers were immune and this should leave the galaxy finally in the hands of the academy. How wrong he turned out to be.

Six planetary cycles later we are able to enter the ship. Once again, the secret priest controls that have been built into all ships, allow access to most ship controls. We loaded seven crates of unknown contents and our limited luggage. We were not able to take much food, but the priest felt that the crates were more important.

As we took off I watched the planet fade away into the dark. Death and destruction were left behind and the priest was once again ecstatic. He turned to his control panel and tapped in the code for the academy. There were no responses except from a few beacons. All of the channels were dead. The censors were fired up and he scanned all bands. There was a cry from the consol and the readings came in. Whatever disaster hit our planet also hit the rest of the galaxy as everything was dead or totally disrupted. The priest started to turn and the ship jumped.

Something caused the ship to jump without a command. The priest reviewed the panel and then laughed. “The ship is set to automatically perform a full power jump to Linthia” he said. He went on, “I would not have executed a full power jump as it wastes too much fuel, but that is near where we wanted to go anyway. The Galactic Wing is almost totally undamaged by the war and that is where we will release the plague.”

I asked, “Did not the controls show galaxy-wide devastation?” “Of course, that was to keep anyone from using the ship. Standard Kuli lies!” he noted. It seems as if the standard lie is to accuse the Kuli of lies. What purpose does my life serve? Why and where are we going? How can the Academy be so deceptive without being exposed? I sit down and contemplate my next actions. With almost no one alive and those dying I wonder what my future could be.

The blinding swirl of light that accompanies the return to real space dances across my eyes. I look to the control panel for a view the famous Linthia system. Linthia is a custom built solar system. The Linthians achieved technology at such a high level that they were able to move their planets. All the planets are positioned around their sun in perfect formation allowing for the best climates in the galaxy. Their planets have no disease, no predators outside of parks, and agriculture integrated completely into their biodegradable structures.

Even during the war people from both sides visited the Linthians. It was only after the Murhans joined with the Tyrians that the Galactic Wing was cutoff. I knew that if anyone survived it would be the Linthians. I looked at the view screen and froze.

The Galactic Wing is famous for its beauty and the Linthian system is the jewel of the wing. It contains a perfectly clustered group of stars that revolve around one huge star around which all the planets are perfectly aligned. The view is renowned for the awe inspiring vista it paints. Some even say that it is the only view that can truly touch the soul.

The ancient Linthians had the power to move planets and suns. They started to rebuild the Galactic Wing to their own design. Yet one day they just quit and dismantled their equipment. They always remained the best at technology yet after that point their profits came from correcting errors others had with their technology.

Today the impressive view was gone. Directly in front of us is chaos. Scattered remains of planetary bodies were strewn around the center of the wing. The center itself was a black abyss that appeared as if it was a sheet of ice on a dark night. Linthia was no more!

The priest screamed, “No! The Star Channel should have allowed the Holy High Seer to escape – not this. We must go to the battle and save him!” He started reprogramming the controls only to scream again, “No!” He slammed his fist on the panel as he raged over and over, “No!” Blood splattered from the damage on his hand and he finally stopped his rampage.

“The Star Channel was our backup plan. If the ambush failed, the Holy High Seer would still destroy the Kuli and use their power to transport over here through the Star Channel. The Star Channel should have taken their power and used it to move the King’s system to a spot next to Linthia. Now there is nothing.” He hung his head and I felt my soul grow cold as the life seemed to leave my body. I lurched to the floor and clenched my heart as the pain surged through me. As I weakened I saw his strength return – what was this?

His smile returned as he said, “Now you understand your place. I see in your eyes that the truth has finally arrived. Remember the truth “A person’s knowledge is more important than the person.” Well it is very true. However, a grown person brings their own ideas into the mix when the knowledge is carried to a new body. For that reason, we use your bodies to regenerate our own. Your body was linked to mine in the hospital. If the Kuli had not attacked, you would be old and I would be young again. Now all I can do is draw small amounts of energy from the implants we placed in you.”

My defeat was now complete. I was a traitor to all and I had helped with an evil so big that it destroyed a galaxy, ruined and killed the real heroes, and obliterated the one system that could have helped us rebuild.

He smiled again and said, “It appears that everyone has died on all the planets. My scanners show nothing except at the location of the last battle. It must have been great as there are a lot of energy sources left. We must find a fuel source. The Kuli rigged this ship to come here and to consume all of its fuel. Then we must revive the ancient cores of the High Council. They will know what to do.”

The seven crates – six members of the High Council plus the Holy High Seer. We are carrying the Academy of Truth on this stolen ship with no fuel lost in the middle of a field of destruction beyond compare. How appropriate.

“Will we revive all seven?” I asked. He answered that we would not. One would have to be sacrificed so that the others could live. We would have to empty one reconstitution chamber and put someone in it so that their body energy could revive the other five council members. Then the empty chambers’ energy and the one with the body in it could regenerate the core of the Holy High Seer. Clearly he considered me disposable and intended me to be the “someone” in his story. The council member cores could be revived without regeneration but would be weak and with so much time as a core, they would degenerate rapidly outside their container. It would be critical to find a body for each of them as soon as possible. From where?

Most of my strength had returned but I was still scared. How could I have any hope of stopping such powerful and evil beings? If everyone is dead, who cares? Let it end. I was just about to give up when the priest commented, “The ships will never reach the next galaxies and if they do, we will find them, eliminate the Kuli, and build things the way they should be.” “Someone survived” I asked.

“Yes” he said. He went on, “I have the captain’s log from this cruiser.” The fools somehow managed to trap the power of the battle and even planned on dying in the effort. However, they did not know that the Holy High Seer had tapped the power of the Linthian Star Channel and so the forces escaped down the channel instead blowing out of the solar system. When it was released here it caused the devastation you see. However, the attack fleet of Murhans and Kuli survived intact. While some went to check planets for survivors, the others retooled the ships for crossings to other galaxies. They can try to hide, but we will hunt them down.”

The five High Council members had revived and were discussing the connections for the core transfer when I entered the room. They all smiled and my blood went cold. It was clear that they all were the greatest type of evil. They believed that they were Gods and that, as the truth says, “The end justifies the path.”

I hooked the Holy High Seer’s chamber to mine and connected all the other chambers together to draw power. No one wanted to take the chance that there would not be enough to complete the process. They were all so arrogant. They ordered me around as if I were a dog. They left the directions on the table as they discussed how they would destroy the remaining Kuli and take over the seed colonies that the Kuli were sending out. It was clear now who worked to build and who worked to destroy.

I am almost done when the universe lights up again. I watch in slow motion as the council members and the priest fly across the cabin. They slam into me and once again the darkness fills my mind. I awake and see the six of them with fear in their eyes. I smile inside as I wonder what could chill the soul of ones so cold. The ship is a mess and everyone has cuts and bruises. It is evident that once again they were surprised. The great knowledge they hold is clearly filled with holes.

They are intent on reviving the Holy High Seer. They tell me that only he has the knowledge to understand what has happened. However, most of the directions to the chamber hook-ups are now destroyed. Only one of the archive units holding the Academy’s knowledge base is intact and they fear it will harm them if they use it. It is decided that I should use it under one of its control settings to see if it still works.

My brain screams with delight and pain. The knowledge courses into me like a beam of light in the night. They think it is controlled, but it is not. It brings me all the information I request without hesitation. It is too much and I surrender to the darkness once more.

When I come to they ask if I learned how to hook up the chamber. “Yes.” I said while smiling deeply inside. I review the connections and tell them that everything is almost ready to go. As I lower myself into the chamber I finally have a sense of peace I never knew.

There is no pain this time. I am outside the field. The chambers were hooked up wrong. The power couplings were not strong enough to handle all the energy and they burned up. The energy was funneled into the Holy High Seer and fried his core into oblivion. All of the chambers, except mine, were destroyed. The single remaining archive unit can only be used for one person’s knowledge, and with only one chamber they could not force their knowledge onto anyone. If they wished the knowledge to go on, it would have to be downloaded into a willing recipient as I destroyed the controller and that was the setting left on.

I emerged from the chamber to confusion. The Holy High Seer was finally dead and they 1ooked as if they had seen a ghost. “What happened?” I innocently asked, drawing all the confusion into my voice that I possibly could. “The field built wrong and the energy flowed to the wrong sections” the priest said. “The controller must have received damage when we left Linthia space” he added. It was good that they had an answer and I left the matter alone as everyone stared at the incinerated core of the Holy High Seer.

Three tetraines later, the damage from exposure to the field was starting to show. All of the Council Members were experiencing dementia of one sort or the other. Even the priest was having difficulty maintaining his demeanor.

The following morning a glorious sight came into our view screens. In the middle of empty space was the Linthian solar system with its circling stars and planets. They are thrilled. As we draw near the joy recedes.

The planets are no longer in perfect order orbiting the sun and many are missing. The ones that are left do not follow the nice paths left by the ancient Linthians. Instead they careen around the sun in wild erratic paths that bring into question the sustainability of life. The question became, “Is anyone left alive/” The tumult we experienced on the ship must be nothing compared to what whole planets and suns went through. Without fuel we slowly drift toward the system using our positioning thrusters to aim at one of the more stable planets. Without food enough for all of us, the Council members took the deep sleep in the cruisers lifeboats.

The priest and I maintain the ship while they sleep. There are no communication channels open and we only see night light on one planet. At least some are still alive, but do I want them to experience this evil? I know I must do something as the Academy’s version of the “truth” does not resemble reality in any way.

We should land in two days and I have made my decision. I need to leave a record for any who come this way and the record needs to transmit on both sides of the tear in space we went through. I wish I understood more, but the knowledge I received from the archive unit indicated that the Holy High Seer planned to use the ancient technology from the Linthians to move the King’s solar system into the Galactic Wing. The process opens a channel in the fabric of space itself through the use of energy from an alternate universe. Perhaps now as we saw the chaos in the Galactic Wing and view Linthia in another universe we know why the ancient Linthians quit using the technology.

The second thing I need to do is warn the Linthians about this crew. I now believe that they are the most dangerous people left alive. I am going to disable the ship’s thrusters. The ship will never be able to land and will drift forever. Then I will set up a warning for the Linthians.

The priest was asleep and I snuck up on him with the syringe. As I injected him he awoke and his surprise was complete. The drug disengaged his control over my implants and returned all of the power left. I felt a surge of energy as he collapsed back into his bed. I realized how dependant he was on his implants as his true age became apparent.

When I returned to the control room I saw my mistake. There was an asteroid coming and now I had no way to avoid it. I have three cycles to record all that I can.

I am preparing this message as the asteroid approaches. My last gift to you is knowledge that the Linthians of Thor survived with their planet almost completely intact. They have a couple of lifeboats left that they are using to move between planets. There are many Linthians still alive.

There are two bad news items. First, where ever this is, time is not the same. Thousands of generations have past here. The inhabitants took the name of the planet as their own – Thor of Linthia or Thorlinthia.

The second is the Council. When the asteroid hit I was seriously injured and would have died had the Thorlinthians not found me. As it was, they revived the Council while I was incapacitated. The priest helped them and found a volunteer for his own renewal. By connecting a deep sleep pod to the reconstitution chamber he thought he would regenerate his body. He did not know that instead his knowledge would be transferred into the volunteer and he died from the shock of finding himself still in his old body.

However, I must now add a warning to my message. The story told by the new version of the Deep Deceiver’s assistant is quite a ways from the truth. The revived Council members backed him up and convinced many before they died of some sort of dementia. The Thorlinthians believe that the Murhans caused the great wars and that between the Kuli and the Murhans their system was exiled to this place.

Encrypted section

Not all Thorlinthians believe this. I was found by the Qzicy family. The Thorlinthians are now a warrior caste system and the Qzicy family is one of the top. The law allows all prizes to be kept and I was “salvaged” so I am kept. All the rest of the people and the ship were sold to the High Command.

The Qzucy family has records from before the exile that show the Kuli to be benevolent teachers of high technology. Their records show that at the time of Linthia’s retreat from technology two groups formed. One that believed in isolation and eventually resided completely in the Linthia system and a second group that formed the Kuli to train others to use high technology in peaceful ways and to protect civilization from improper uses.

The family has a third history that is not written in their books but that is passed down to the children by word of mouth only. I encrypted this into my message with a Kuli code that the archive showed me. (I apologize for using your information without permission.)

The third history is of a group of ancient Linthians that were banished. They took the high technology and infused it with the life force in ways that allowed harm to come to those whose life force they used, even at times causing death. This group was stripped of their ability to use the life force and sent off into empty space away from all galaxies.

They did not die as alone in space. Instead one family took pity on them and sent a rescue unit for the group. That family was the Qzucy family. The group used a reconstitution chamber to place the intelligence of the greatest member of their group into the body of a genetically pure young man. This body was then put through the core process. When the others died he lived on using other bodies while keeping the core in deep sleep.

They showed me the crest from his chamber. It was the chamber of the Holy High Seer that I had killed. Their guilt is absolute and they dedicate all of their family to the cause of the Kuli. Yet their mission is to remain undercover and work from the inside. They saved me and helped me prepare the capsule I now send.

Unencrypted

The group that captured me took me back to the ship so that I could show them how things worked. During that time I finished this message. Heed my warning.

After thousands of generations of suffering, the Thorlinthians are recovering their technology. They are determined, beyond all that I have ever seen, to have their revenge upon the Murhans for the tragedy of beautiful Linthia and the deaths of billions.

My gift to you is this message. Heed my warning. The Thorlinthians know of the seed races and plan to hunt them down and seek their revenge. Their bitterness runs cold and vengeance drives them all. Their race once ruled all the galaxy and had technology that could move stars. They will return and when they do let all beware and be ready!

The Watcher - Awakenings

dirk@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra) — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 22:47:00 GMT

The wailing of the alarms awoke me from my deep sleep. 638 times they have gone off after various cosmic events. Perhaps I was wrong to insist on this posting. After the death of J'Rontia and her Soretto, I became the leader of the Kuli by virtue of my seniority and exercised that authority by ordering the creation and manning of this post. The Cosmic Tear must be watched in case anyone finds a way to return.

J'Rontia made it clear in the last commands that we must find the Linthians and return them to this universe. The Cosmic Tear may present a key to their recovery and I determined that it must be watched. Someone needs to listen for messages and monitor the Cosmic Tear to see if the universe starts to heal or if it gets worse. No one volunteered.

The machines work to restore my body to life and I am extremely grateful for my Kuli training. How anyone handles the awakening from deep sleep without it I cannot comprehend. The agony of the body is extreme and only a retreat into meditation makes it bearable. The alarms continue to sound.

When I am able, I make my way to the display and find that the sensors received a message sent through the tear. I sit down and start to read the message from the "Traitor." I was correct in establishing this base. I forward the message to the seed galaxies and start my recovery process from deep sleep. I will recover, complete the required trainings, and then return to the deep sleep I dreaded so much before.

My life has meaning again and I know that the passage of time will no longer be a drain on my soul.

The Linthians live and there is hope for redemption. There is also danger as the message warned: Beware the Thorlinthians!

The Myth of Thorlinthian Origin by Drigondii Sheii'Cronell

dirk@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra) — Tue, 15 May 2007 03:08:00 GMT

Myth of Origin by Drigondii Sheii'Cronell
This myth regarding the Origin of Thorlinthia is a blatant misdirection by Drigondii. The text is full of untruths, such as the invisibility of Thorlinthians, used to misdirect researchers trying to find the truth of Thorlinthia. A careful reader will find a number of contradictory statements in the article. This article was posted on the Earth site Wikipedia until facts were produced that disproved a number of the statements. Readers need to beware - the Thorlinthians will try to disguise the truth by wrapping it in lies. They cover up their discovered actions and plans by releasing similar, but false information.

Thorlinthia

A Very, Very Brief Summary of Thorlinthia

Thorlinthia is an ancient imperical civilization from another universe. The home planet of the Thorlinthians is located in the Qzicvden galaxy in their universe. Their universe was the second of three created. The first is beleived to contain Heaven and Hell, but no confirmations have been made.

Thorlinthians are composed of a material that only reflects ultraviolet light. To us, it appears that they are invisible, but if you use ultraviolet-sensitive cameras, you can actually see them.

Some times they produce a slight glimmer after consuming food that reflects something other than ultraviolet.

Humans exist in four known dimensions. Time, up and down, left and right, and forward and back. Thorlinthians exist in twenty-three dimensions. Time, up and down, left and right, forward and back, and nineteen other indescribable dimensions. It must be admitted at this point that we are not sure how these other dimensions work, but we do know that they have movements involving manipulation of the soul.

Thorlinthian ships work by manipulating the time dilation of black and white holes. They are unbelievably massive and definitely impressive. Their weapons actually are alittle more conventional. They shoot Missiles composed of the same material as their outer shell.

Thorlinthians have come to Earth and there is a mass number of depictions in cave drawings in places like San Cristobal, Dominican Republic. Aborigines have made many depictions of Thorlinthians in Australia. It is believed that they are the basis for the myth of dragons. It is very confusing, however, how they were seen. Scientists belive that certain gases in our more ancient atmosphere had an effect on their tissue, causing them to adapt in a way that would cause them to be seen.

The Thorlinthians were believed to have created a small outpost on Earth that caused them to be worshiped by the ancient human civilizations. It is believed that the Thorlinthians were the Atlanteans. It is also rumored that they were the Greek gods.

Unpublished author Dirk Dykstra II has written about Thorlinthia in his book "Thorlinthia and All Its Quandaries".

All of this content has been pre-verified by the Thorlinthian Science Society. We are led by the great Drigondii Sheii'Cronell, a Thorlinthian soul who has consumed and begun to use a human body. Any misbeliefs in Thorlinthia are due to intentional cover-ups by the Earth Government Unification Society. Drigondii 21:19, 6 February 2007 (UTC)

Just a few points:
There is no Thorlinthian Science Society
Drigondii is supposedly a half human Thorlinthian
There is no Earth Government Unification Society
Dirk D Dykstra II is one of the legitimate researchers of the Thorlinthian texts
The Thorlinthians are believed to be the Atlanteans

The Last Commands of J'Rontia

dirk@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra) — Tue, 15 May 2007 02:42:00 GMT

Each breath is an effort as I climb back to consciousness and away from the soft embrace of death. My eyes are dim and out of focus, my head swims through the sea of random thoughts, my intestines feel turned upside down, and I blink. I can not feel my legs. I reach out for the life-force around me and find little life left to give me strength. Death and despair surround me.

Next to me, dead, is my best friend, my Soretto. For seven thousand years we studied, trained, taught, fought, and lived together. With fewer and fewer being endowed with the understanding of the life-force, we took the long sleep many times. We have trained more Kuli candidates than any others in all the history of Tyria. Oh, the sweet memories of glorious Tyria.

Once a city, oh so small, then a country, oh so proud, followed by the naming of a distant star system, and lastly, the name of our wondrous galaxy spanning federation. Free, proud, and strong we were and determined to name this group of intelligent, democratic, and strong systems after the one system that had never been conquered and had always been a democracy.

But the warning of Supreme Guardian Tomli went unanswered. No one worried about one lone planet not joining. No one worried that all they wanted was to keep their king. "Just our king. We will change all the rest to a democracy. Just let us keep our king." All of Tyria answered - if you want the benefits, then you must become a true democracy. We wanted it all. We wanted to stamp out all injustice and in doing so we committed the crime of arrogance.

Who knew a Deep Deceiver remained? Who knew he was on this lone planet? Who knew that their anger at us would destroy all of Tyria? As I lay here, I realize that my Soretto and I knew. As Tomli instructed us in the powers and arts long forgotten by most, our suspicions grew. As the other guardians quit and went to live a life of "peace", we stayed. When the Supreme Guardian died, we stayed and studied more because we knew he was right. There was no one to appoint us Supreme Guardians as peace was everywhere. So we took our first long sleep, only to awake to the rumblings of what was to come, as that lone angry planet was now a lone angry solar system.

So we trained another generation and slept. We awoke to alarms and our long sleep was interrupted by Kuli who needed help training for war. The hate now consumed an entire arm of the galaxy and our appointments as Supreme Guardians was shadowed by the darkness spreading across the galaxy. We suggested allowing them to have their king. "No! Not now." was the answer. We thought, "if not now, when?"

We slept. When we awoke, the galaxy was engulfed in a battle with the king. When we pleaded for negotiations, the darkness finally showed its source as the Deep Deceiver revealed himself and his newly built group of followers as they announced the creation of the Academy of Truth by the Holy High Seer. Our greatest fears had come alive.

But I ramble. I need to record the end of Tyria as it happened and take responsibility for our mistake. All of the remaining Guardians will receive my final orders as Supreme Guardian to look for a solution and atonement. The commands have been sent to the Kuli on the seed ships: Do all you can to find and restore Linthia to this universe and beg for our forgiveness. Protect, serve, and do not reveal our knowledge to the seed colonies. Remove all life-force holders from their colonies as soon as they are discovered and train them as Kuli. Do not allow yourselves to be discovered by the seed colonies under any conditions until they achieve a technology Level Ten. Finally, do not restore me again, as the life force becomes too difficult to control, and I fear you may create another Deceiver. You must destroy my core.

So what was our mistake? The galaxy was almost completely destroyed and yet the Academy still stood. The darkness was moved back to that one solar system at a cost of most of the galaxy. We needed to end this forever. We needed to make sure the survivors had time to recover before the darkness returned. So we built a plan to destroy the entire solar system. No one would escape this time to start down the dark path again. And they didn’t.

But every deed has its price. Two Supreme Guardians, two thousand Guardians, and four million soldiers of the Federation were ready to give their lives for the life of the galaxy. We felt the price was fair and we were prepared. The switch was thrown, the solar system vanished, and we awaited our doom. Nothing. The backlash from the power used to destroy the solar system was to flow into the ships of the blockade. Our linked force shields were designed to contain the destruction and we were all prepared to die. We didn’t.

The Deep Deceiver had tried to open a conduit for a jump using the life force of all his followers. We had anticipated this move and we had all two thousand Guardians blocking the move. We all felt the agony of his followers as their life was drained in the attempt, we all felt the cleansing of the life force as the Deceiver lost control of his power. And then we released destruction upon the entire solar system.

Our mistake was that we forgot to factor in life force battle. All battles with life force cause ripples and stresses in the fabric of space. In this case, the battle was so intense that the stresses actually damaged space itself and flowed down a fault line like glass cracking and created a subspace conduit. The destructive power we released to destroy the solar system did not reflect back out into our blockade. We who were prepared to die did not. The power followed the conduit through the fabric of space itself to the far end of the galaxy. To our shock and horror the power traveled to the Galactic Wing and exploded out near the solar system of Linthia in a spiral cone that engulfed the entire system before it broke open space time itself.

The Galactic Wing was our final stronghold, contained our only surviving ship building facilities, was where we had secretly trained for this mission, where we built the four million man army, and where our last library of Kuli knowledge resided. The systems of the Galactic Wing emptied their cities as they finally were allowed to help in this war. All the systems except one.

Linthia was the only system that refused to fight. They felt our arrogance caused the problem and in the end, as we used dark powers to win, they were the conscience of the federation reminding us that there are always consequences unseen and that the end does not justify the means.

The breach in space time formed a rip in the universe itself. As all things attempt a balance, the opening on the other side pulled all of Linthia through. The innocent on the planets of Linthia vanished with their solar system into a rip in the fabric of space itself. And then space closed and they were gone.

The shock waves blew through the galaxy and the remnants of Tyria were destroyed. All that was left were the warriors who swore to die for the galaxy that was now dead.

The days before our attack were dark as galaxy-wide resources and manpower were used up. The only warships we had left were built by the Murhans of the Galactic Wing. One of the last systems in the federation to be attacked, the Murhans’ ship manufacturing facilities were still intact. All of us at the battle were also of that race as their atmosphere was not breathable by other races. Only one race existed now and we just blasted most of them somewhere unknown to a fate we can only imagine. We destroyed all our friends, all our allies, our beloved galaxy and banished into exile the only ones who warned us. Our shame is complete and Tomli’s prophecy is fulfilled by those he trained to prevent it.

But I am swept up into the emotions and sorrows of the story again; time is short, so I return to the narrative.

The fleet now had a new duty. We must start over in new galaxies. Our explorers had only visited three galaxies, all at the limits of our fuel. The ships of the blockade are stripped and destroyed as we refit eight cargo ships and eight scout ships to take the needed people, fuel, and supplies the great distances between galaxies. We will go to the nearest eight galaxies with 500,000 people to seed in each. We estimate around 5,000 per habitable planet with 2 to 3 Kuli per planet.

But that is not all. On planets all over the galaxy people are dying horrible deaths. Someone must check all the planets for possible survivors and supplies. Before the war we had over 17,000 habitable planets, now we only have 2,138 to search. This is a job for the Kuli. Scout ships are assigned and we all go out. Everywhere we go hope dies a little more.

Five secorits later the seed ships are ready and the Kuli are recalled. My Soretto and I will finish the final searches. Twenty-nine planets remain. We are assigned a Commander’s Personal Cruiser of great speed that was spared scavenging so we could use it to search the final planets and catch up with one of the seed ships. Most of the fuel was removed and our trip was planned with great precision.

Our search became more and more hopeless as planet after planet was dead. The last three planets are all in a row pointing away from the Galactic Wing. Hope rises. The first planet lost its atmosphere in what must have been moments. The second held out in agony for a long time. Evidence of attempts to survive are at every landing site, but all life signs turn out to be animals and they are almost dead. All of our hopes are on the third planet of the groups and our final planet to search.

We have no life signs anywhere except at one of the planet’s poles. As we approach we are attacked with lasers, missiles, and finally unmanned small craft. They make no impact on our shields at all. We approach the camp cautiously and then land. Thousands surround our ship pleading to be taken on board. I reach out with the life force trying to answer the questions in our minds. They have the plague of Torusis.

Our defeat is complete and our path chosen. We can not leave these suffering people and fly off to another galaxy with our guilt. Yet we can not open the ship doors without being overrun. Even if we clear the area and successfully leave the ship, surely some will have the knowledge to take the ship and flee, only to infect those on the seed ships. My Soretto and I set the ship’s controls to an almost impossible jump that will land the ship in the middle of where Linthia used to be, using all the fuel and preventing any escape.

We work non-stop for many cycles of the planet. On the seventh cycle, the ship takes off and we have no idea how they overcame the locks, but it is gone. As the ship breaks atmosphere we find out that the programmed overrides worked as the ship jumps before anyone would have. Three cycles later we are more convinced that rigging the ship was a good idea as we discover the specific strain of plague we are fighting is an old one the deceivers developed.

Knowing the strain did not help as we could not find the needed resources to battle the plague. Everyone wants us to use our healing powers to save them and they do not understand why we can not. How do you explain to the dying that it is life that gives us the ability to save them and almost all the life in the galaxy is now gone. In their frustration and agony they finally attack us in great numbers.

We are expert fighters and thousands die under our skilled hands. They are sick and weak, yet their fear drives them on as they can not believe we are still standing against them. Bit by bit we are wounded and start to slow down. A flying knife out of the crowd slips through and strikes my Soretto in the neck. It is a fatal blow with our limited resources. He smiles and surges forward as I follow. Their front breaks and we feel our hope return as the fall back. But our hope fades when they surge back again. When my Soretto finally falls it is near the end, almost everyone is dead. We stayed to die with them and die we shall.

It is not just the dead around me that is so depressing. It is the realization that of the thousands of Kuli still alive, most will also die. When the remnants of Tyria arrive on their new planets their immune systems will be vigorously attacked by the native organisms of the planet. The Kuli will be at their limit helping everyone heal from these biological attacks and helping their bodies adjust to the new environment. It is doubtful that many of the colonies will survive the first year and even less likely that the Kuli will.

I drift again. Before I send this I need to give you one additional piece of information. After the battle, I got up and went to find the deceivers’ hideout. They must have a lab nearby and that means communication systems. There is only one ship I wish to track – the Commander’s Personal Cruiser. I need to know that the last deceiver was stranded.

My strength wanes as I prowl a dead planet in a dead galaxy. After many cycles I find the lair of the deceiver. I was correct in that there was only one. The locals working with him thought he was a priest of the Holy Order of Tyria and never suspected him. The protections are easily overcome and I fire-up their long-range communications. The ship is at the old coordinates of Linthia. I am ready to send my final message, when the screen fills with static from the outside in toward Linthia. When the surge converges on the ship everything blurs. After the convergence the ship is gone. Is it destroyed?

With my strength gone and my hopes with it, I can only say good bye. May you do better than we did.

The Journal of Swigori

dirk@dykstra.com (Dirk Dykstra) — Mon, 07 May 2007 13:31:00 GMT

The Journal of Swigori

Location & Condition:

This journal was found in the crawl space under the old Thompson home near the banks of the Colorado river in Mitchell County just north of the IH20 overpass. The journal was seriously damaged, but was one of the only ones written in English. At this point we can not determine what material it is composed of. This then was actually the first journal piece read by our young adventurer - who we will just call Bobby for now. Due to the material and condition, were unable to date the journal and do not know if it was brought to this house or created here. The home burned in July of 1989 when struck by lightning. All members of the Thompson family were there for a family reunion and noone survived. A search for other close relatives revealed a second cousin who perished in an auto accident six days later on his way to the funeral.

Excerpts:

1) (damage) ... they believe that way. In the great way we will always conquer, but in the daily ... (unrecognizable) ... for then we will triumph and you will all be destroyed. This ... (damage) ... except of course for those who are loyal and willing to worship us. Thompsons will have their name written in the book of Thorlinthia and their descendants will be honored ... (large missing fragment) .. unruly group with incredible powers of perception. This ability was not known in humans originally. For thousands upon thousands of years we watched as Earth was only a slime ball. Humans on this planet had no powers at all. Then, about ten thousand years ago, two groups of people started showing abilities in line with ... (damaged section) ... we were left puzzled. No trace of outside contact existed at all. (end of section)

2) (damage) ... in the end there can be only one race. The ancients spoke of many races and the wars they caused. It was during these wars the human acquired power and in secret prepared for the destruction of all Torlinthians. Our civilization and almost all of our records were destroyed. If we had not found the ship with the ancients in deep sleep, we would never have learned of our past. Even then it is unclear as they fell into madness so fast. Seventeen cycles and their knowledge was lost forever. Time ... (large missing fragment) ... while not totally accurate, their hatred for humans and their knowledge of our destruction matched exactly with the traditions of our race. Let all beware - the Thorlinthians have returned! We will have our revenge when we find the rest of the human race.

Analysis:

This appears more as a letter than a journal entry. We assume that the journal was written in English for the benefit of the Thompson family. This family must have done some service for Swigori and is rewarded for that service by receiving permission to be servants after the fall of mankind.

It is interesting that the Thorlinthians do not know their own history. We can only wonder how accurate the rantings of madmen are. The Thorlinthians seem to take their words as gospel, but you can hear doubt in Swigori's telling. The link with some undisclosed traditions seems weak to us. A priority needs to be placed on finding out more on this topic. We may have a chink in their armor here.

An additional note - Swigori discusses the "rest of the human race" in a way that indicates they are not all on Earth and are hidden. Since science shows through evolution that man evolved on this planet, we are unsure of the meaning implied here. Did man at some time develop a higher civilization and then leave this planet? Is evolution wrong? We will watch with great interest any further comments on the "rest" of mankind.