You should not have come here.

The tone of the thought was gloating and unmistakable. It grated on his mind.

For what must have been the millionth time, Teron Galton gritted his teeth, wishing it was easier to tell the difference between his own thoughts and the counterfeit nastiness the Watcher slipped into his brain. If he hadn’t been so familiar with that ugly feeling, he would have assumed it was his own. It certainly carried his own sentiments this time. He SHOULDN’T have come here…but he had.

On the plot stretching across the entire forward wall of the bridge, the amber star representing the Telestry’s vessel winked insultingly in front of them. They had only just crossed into the Watcher’s territory, which in his own mind marked the edge of the Abyss. Teron double checked their coordinates. The malevolent presence’s area of influence had expanded yet again.

It calls to me. I WILL have it.

Teron grimaced. At least it wasn’t trying to fool him into thinking its voice WAS his own thoughts anymore. That concession had only taken what? Almost a thousand years Earth time? He was grimly certain it was only because the malevolent entity had decided this open prodding was more effective. Teron felt oddly proud at the thought. He’d take any win he could get against this particular horror.

At this moment, though, the Watcher wasn’t his biggest problem. That honor belonged to the Telestry, the most bullheaded of the galaxy’s human powers.

“Lord Keeper! They’re still on course for the Casisias’ crystal. Are you certain you want to keep pace with them? I’m getting…” Issachar had his face twisted into an expression Teron would normally have called unbecoming in an officer, and his oldest living friend, who was also Malak’s captain, turned his head almost reflexively to see if someone was staring at him from behind.

Teron sighed, “Yes, Issachar. I feel the Watcher. I know we must look to the safety of the Sigil, but Jon and Rachel are in that crystal. Paul Casisia loved them. He would never forgive me if I allowed the Telestry to harm them. Take heart. The Watcher cannot do anything to us unless we allow it to break us. Guard your thoughts.”

Issachar’s face became an iron mask and he nodded, “Of course, my lord.” Teron could see the grim determination in his friend’s expression, much as he tried to hide his emotions behind his Regalian stoicism. Issachar was a good man–the best he’d known since Paul Casisia disappeared.

Every trip into the Abyss was a risk Teron couldn’t afford. Even now, he knew the Watcher was pressing on the thoughts of every single member of his crew, trying to worm itself into their minds, tempting them to do something terrible, driving them insane. He had given orders that no crewman was to be alone with their minds under assault. With distant curiosity, Teron wondered if the Telestry crew even so much as felt the Watcher’s gaze on the back of their necks the way his own people did. He knew the Telestry was doing the Watcher’s own work for it. Whatever meddling they planned to try on the crystal this time was beyond him, but if there was even a chance they might succeed, he had no choice but to follow them.

“My lord, we’ve received a hail from the Telestry. It’s the vessel Ocharist….it’s Drake Loriden, my lord.”

Teron didn’t allow his expression to change, but internally he cursed as the Watcher’s gloating laugh boomed through the back of his mind.

“Put him on, Issachar.”

“Here, my lord?”

Teron laughed mirthlessly, “If he’s calling me in the Abyss, he knows we’re not speaking privately.” In response, Drake Loriden’s dark, brooding visage appeared on the screen, replacing the master plot. For a long moment, Loriden didn’t speak, obviously studying Teron.

Then, Loriden’s eyes narrowed. “What business have you here, Keeper of the Mysteries?” He was obviously putting on more of an act than he needed to, probably because Teron hadn’t taken his comm privately. Teron had known Loriden for four hundred earth years, more than a hundred and fifty years, New Standard Time. Loriden was something of a showman, enough so that it was easy to forget how effective an operative he could be. He didn’t bother with his act in front of Teron anymore, but with anyone else present he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Teron frowned at Loriden. “The Casisias are my charge, Telestic Loriden. I cannot allow them to come to harm.”

Loriden smiled almost convincingly, an affectation Teron knew had no purpose beyond provoking him. “Why, then, have you not freed them from their imprisonment?”

On top of the irritation induced by the Watcher, the provocation worked. It was all Teron could do to keep his face smooth. “The time is coming, Loriden. I may not be able to free them, but Brightstar will. I am as nothing in HIS shadow.”

Loriden’s sneer was somehow even worse than the smile had been. “Yes, your precious ‘Brightstar.’ How long have you been waiting, Galton? A thousand years?” He laughed, though Teron could tell there was no real mirth in Loriden either. The Abyss was the furthest thing in the galaxy from a joke and they both knew it, however Loriden might playact. After a moment, Loriden continued, “Don’t worry, Keeper. When the Brightstar appears, the Telestry will do its part. You shall have your audience, even if we must stand to your defense. Malleus’ wish will be fulfilled—if Brightstar ever comes.” Loriden stopped, as if inviting him to speak, but Teron just stared grimly into the video pickup, waiting. Loriden liked to talk, and he was the one who had initiated the call, after all.

After another long pause, Loriden scowled. “If we should free the Casisias, you will have your audience with them as well. Even if the Brightstar is not present. Don’t try my patience. This will be… delicate.”

Teron ground his teeth. “You know the prophecies, Loriden. The Casisias may not—must not—be freed until Brightstar comes.”

“Prophecies are chancy, Keeper. Our reading of the texts is…somewhat different. We will reach the crystal within the day. Unless you wish to incur the wrath of the Telestry, stand clear. The ancient pact between us stands. You must not interfere.” With that, Loriden cut the connection.

As the seconds passed in the aftermath of Loriden’s words, Issachar made no comment. The rest of the half dozen or so bridge crew was too well disciplined to speak without leave. For his part, Teron was seething, but again he didn’t show it. With the Watcher’s relentless assault, his people were dealing with enough. His doubts must remain his own.

And doubts he had. Even Loriden, with his centuries-long lifespan, was but a child compared to Teron. He HAD been waiting for the Brightstar for a thousand years NST. That was three thousand years Earth time, which was similar to that of Aterria, home of the Telestry. Most of the people of the Aurora galaxy still aged at the same rate they always had, though some did live to be forty standard years old now–a hundred and twenty by Earth reckoning. He was the only one who remembered Earth anymore, and had been for a very long time.

Teron was still in his prime, though he didn’t know how that was possible. The older he got, the less he was certain of. Why did he age so slowly? What of Loriden or the other “Odds” as they were now so quaintly called? Time twisted all things. The ‘ancient pact’ Loriden had spoken of had originally been nothing more than Paul Casisia’s annoyed admonition to the Telestry to ‘mind what Teron told them and make sure to take the Brightstar to the Vale.’ Teron snorted in disgust. Paul’s peevish instruction had gradually decayed in the Telestry’s institutional memory from a general command to obey into no more than a grudging allowance that he got to have an “audience” once the Brightstar did finally show.

His part in the ‘ancient pact’ had never been specified, and he’d allowed the Telestry’s fealty to Paul, to himself and to the Tenets to decay too far…not that their reverence of Paul had ever gone beyond lip service for more than a generation or two at a time. Malleus had been a breath of fresh air, but since Malleus, it had decayed beyond even lip service.

Teron knew he should have done something to bring them into line, but he didn’t know what. The Telestry was completely unmanageable, and he was constantly occupied putting out some fire or other. As busy as he was dealing with the Ilvayn, the Opterans, the Nosufer or any of Their other, less… organized minions, he always had some emergency to chase. He barely had time to think about the Dominion, the Telestry or the other human polities.

Whatever the cause, Teron had allowed the Telestry to become a problem, and short of invading Aterria and taking command of the unruly Energematrists by force, he had little recourse but to “play nice” with what seemed to him troublesome children. He had seriously considered conquering them. Any of their Energematrists or all at once would be hard pressed to overcome the power of the Sigil of Mysteries, but what was he going to do? Kill them all?

Yes. Kill them ALL.

The watcher’s invasion of his mind had never really gone away, and its taunt was a pointed reminder of where they were and the cost of letting his thoughts run amok.
Teron sighed and turned to Issachar, “I will be in my quarters, old friend. Remember, Watcher protocols are in effect. Nobody goes anywhere alone. Double confirmation on every command decision.” Issachar nodded at the order, redundant as it was. They all needed some redundancy in this place.

Teron turned to leave, doing everything he could to prepare himself mentally for what he knew would be a long, difficult wait.

—Three days later—

Teron’s tension had built so high that he was internally ready to exercise the conquest option on the little piece of the Telestry represented by Ocharist. He stared at the image of the Telestry vessel on Malak’s view screen, the Casisias’ crystal in its primary cargo hold, with his jaw clamped shut so hard it ached. It had taken all the self-discipline he could muster had kept the Watcher at bay, first as Malak shadowed Ocharist on its approach to the crystal with the Casisias entrapped in it, then while they attempted to do something–he still didn’t know what–to the crystal itself.

Malak’s crew was showing the strain as well. Twice already, crew members had tried to harm themselves, and the Watcher’s malevolent presence was still intensifying. Both times, the two-together rule had saved them, but it was only a matter of time before someone dove out an airlock–or worse, into one of the emitter coils.

Issachar’s determination also seemed only to have increased, and Teron was glad he wouldn’t have to worry about his friend this time. The last time they had been in the Abyss…
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud exclamation from the technician at the sensor suite, but before Teron could speak Issachar was already moving. “What? What is it!”
The technician turned toward Issachar, his expression confused. “I don’t know, captain! There’s something off the port bow…I think.” He shook his head as if bewildered.

“Well, what is it? Get it on the viewer!” Issachar was nearly beside himself, and Teron could hardly blame him. Perhaps this was nothing, but at least it was a distraction from the constant creeping malevolence in their heads.

Do you REALLY think so?

Gloating laughter echoed through his mind as Malak lurched horribly.

The main view screen changed then, to show a strange shape, only visible in the Abyss’s blackness because portions of it glowed slightly. Teron was already reaching for Energematrice6, automatically using the Sigil of Mysteries around his neck as an amplifier. Teron had been using Energematrice6 for literally thousands of years. Though the colors in the room around him abruptly intensified and he could clearly sense every object and even every molecule if he chose, his focus was so practiced and automatic that he barely noticed.

Teron’s attention was already outside of Malak, using his Energematrice6 sense to search for their foe. It wasn’t quite like normal sight. Instead, he could sense the space and every molecule that occupied it–not many out here. Whatever the enemy was, it had launched some kind of projectile at them, and Teron distantly sensed a giant crater on one side of his vessel. Subconsciously baring his teeth, Teron pushed his perception out into the void, looking for anything at all. Another incoming projectile streaked through his perception and with Energematrice6-boosted senses it was like a tracer, pointing him straight at his target–was that from some sort of rail gun? It had been moving blindingly fast.

When projectiles were propelled up near the speed of light, as the one that had hit Malak was, even a tiny object, the size of Teron’s fist, could tear through the entire vessel like a bullet through tissue paper. Malak had Energematrice6 shields to protect it from such objects, but whatever the projectile was, it had exploded on impact. The energy released was so high that the weapons might as well have had nuclear warheads. Some of that was from the velocity, but it couldn’t all have been so. Malak could only take so many hits like that one. Malak lurched around him again, but Teron barely noticed. He had found the enemy.

Without stopping to properly look at the vessel before him, Teron lashed out. His Energematrice6 specialization was Pyric, but all that meant at his level of mastery was that he reached for it out of habit whenever there was no reason to do otherwise. The gout of pure, plasmic energy that Teron released against his target was enough to consume ten ships like Malak. His white-hot fury at being attacked on top of the pent-up frustration and tension that had inexorably grown as the Watcher tormented him and his crew combined into what he knew must be overkill. Nothing in THIS galaxy could stand up against the power he had just unleashed. It was cathartic. This unknown thing had hurt his ship and probably killed people aboard Malak he had known since they were children.

The eruption of power flowed around him and through the void, coalescing into a lance of fire almost as large as Malak itself as it reached the enemy vessel to consume it.

Or at least, it should have. Instead, the blast wave of power flowed around the unknown enemy, rolling off as if magnetically repelled to streak into the void beyond.

Laughter boomed through Teron, almost breaking his hold on Energematrice6 as his mind was frozen, brittle with shock.

What had just happened was impossible. Everything in the universe was made from Energematrice6. It was the power that underlay existence! How could this be?

I will take the Sigil from your corpse—from the wreckage of your precious Malak!

Real fear wormed into Teron’s guts as the ship around him rocked yet again. Again he lashed out against the enemy, suppressed panic galvanizing him. Again, his gout of power streamed away, blue-white this time, only to wash over the other vessel without effect while return fire rocked Malak.

Alarms were sounding now, and Teron flailed with his power, trying over and over to land a blow while the enemy’s attacks continued to roll in, and Teron felt despair gripping him. Grimly, he understood what would be required to defeat this foe. For reasons he could not understand, Energematrice6 would not touch it. He needed physical projectiles, but this far out into the Abyss there wasn’t so much as space dust for him to lay hold of. Creating a physical object with Energematrice6 that was large enough to damage that strange vessel was impossible. The entropic shock would kill him if he tried.

Vaguely, as if from a world away, Teron heard Issachar saying something. “Loriden…” Teron struggled to focus enough to catch what his old friend was trying to tell him, “…the Casisias.”

“What?” Teron blinked stupidly up at Issachar.

“Loriden is taking the Casisias. They’re free.”

Another blow, even more severe, slammed into Malak as Teron stared at Issachar in disbelief. “That is impossible.” They flinched as the Watcher’s laughter boomed through both of them at the same time. Teron sagged in his seat as the blows abruptly stopped coming and the Watcher’s voice returned with even more force.

TOO LONG, YOU DEFIED ME. NO MORE.

The gloating tone consumed Teron’s world.

Through his Energematrice6-enhanced senses, still spread like a net around Malak’s ruptured, hemorrhaging hull, Teron sensed the enemy turning. On the screen before them, the vessel pivoted, its angles somehow wrong, as if their geometry had come from a completely different place, where reality itself was alien.

Then, the enemy vessel released a projectile four times the size of anything that had so far battered his beleaguered ship. Even through Energematrice6, he barely caught a glimpse of it as it streaked in to rip a hole completely through Malak, from one side to the other.

DIE, KEEPER.

Teron might as well have been dead even before the final projectiles ripped out of the enemy vessel. It was as if he could feel them coming, even before they launched, and nothing could stop it.

But something did.

An object, barely bigger than a man, appeared from the depths of the Abyss, far beyond the enemy, moving even faster than the enemy’s projectiles, which had been at close to light speed when they struck Malak. The object shone with Energematrice6, so charged with power it would have blinded him if it actually emitted photons. To hold a charge like that, it must be some kind of crystal. It was much larger than the projectiles the enemy had shot at Malak, but compared to a space vessel it was still impossibly small.

How could it mount a drive capable of creating the Energematrice6 distortion for super-luminal travel? Nothing that small could possibly move so fast. The blows Malak had taken were terrible, but nothing Teron had ever heard of could propel a small object ABOVE the speed of light. That was why projectile weapons were so rare now. Whatever this was, it was moving many times faster than it should have been able to.

Teron’s conception of reality took yet another blow as the object actually smashed into the enemy’s vessel at an incalculable velocity.

The impact energy was so immense that Teron had trouble understanding what he watched. It wasn’t even an explosion at first. Instead, the enemy vessel simply vaporized where the crystal had passed through it, going from a physical state to an energy state instantaneously. Then, well behind where the crystal had struck, the atomic energy it released consumed the rest of the vessel in a tremendous explosion.

Out of the fireball, a man-sized object, now reduced to a speed barely two or three times that of light, streaked across Teron’s perception, as if following Ocharist and the Casisias. The screen in front of Teron was only just registering the enemy’s destruction as the little crystal disappeared out of Teron’s perception once more.

AAAWWWAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

The Watcher’s howl of inarticulate rage was awful, but the pressure it had been holding against Teron’s mind suddenly, finally slackened as its champion was destroyed.

Issachar grunted. “Took you long enough.” Teron simply stared at him, his mind reeling. Then, understanding bloomed fully within him and he laughed, true mirth and joy rolling freely out of him for the first time he could remember.

Teron clapped Issachar on the shoulder. “That was not me. In fact…” He grinned. “Follow that crystal!”

Did you like The Keeper of the Mysteries?
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