Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1) (24 page)

“No, I just… I just couldn’t sit around and do nothing…”

“Exactly!” Duell paused and leaned back. “You’re a dreamer, Vincent.”

That brought a smile to Vincent’s face. “That’s something I’ve been hearing my whole life.”

“You have the persona of the artist.”

“Now I’m an artist as well?”

“In my philosophy, the artist is not merely someone who creates art—the artist is a rebel. To be an artist is to yearn for a change, to alter the environment around you and others, to stand up against the customs that keep you in a prison. And yes, usually we are the musicians and the sculptors, the writers and the teachers, the leaders and the philosophers. Even politicians.” At that last remark he waved his hand at the approaching Princess.

Gaia smiled at the comment and nodded in respect. “Definitely not the politicians.”

As Vincent glanced at her, he noticed that she took off the mechanic’s uniform and was mesmerized again. She was clad in a black and grey spandex outfit that brought out her athletic figure and exposed her neck and arms, showing a great deal of her skin which glistened with perspiration. She was undeniably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

In her hands, Gaia carried a small tray full of multi-colored capsules. “I brought some food alternatives before we get to Urtan,” she said.

“Astronaut food?” Vincent asked, skeptically looking at the tablets.

“Yes. They easily get digested and contain all of the vitamins, fats, proteins, and carbohydrates the body needs. It’s not recommended to eat real food during artificial gravity.”

Spaide and Duell proceeded to make their selection, but Vincent hesitated. “It’s a tough choice,” he said.

“Here, try this one.” Gaia gave him a large green gel tab. “It’s Tariadorian Steak, or tastes like it at least.”

“Don’t tell me what it is,” Vincent said, swallowing the pill. Seconds after, a succulent feeling filled his stomach, resembling the taste of tender steak with a side of mashed potatoes.

As everyone took their share, Gaia put away the tray and sat back down on the couch.

“Now that you mention it,” Vincent asserted Duell, sitting down beside Gaia, “I am somewhat of a thrill seeker. But even so, I still don’t understand why I would make an agreement with Oryon that will take me away from everything I know.”

“You will one day,” Duell replied. “When you achieve total peace with your mind, you’ll understand why you made that choice.”

Vincent sighed, confused more than ever. “I can’t even accept the fact I have this power yet, much less have any of the
magic
.”

“With time, you’ll accept this gift that’s been bequeathed upon you and easily do the things the twins are capable of,” Duell assured.

“It is amazing what they can do,” Vincent said, remembering their supernatural abilities.

“And they are but twenty-one.”

“Oryon,” Vincent then said. “What happened to his body? Why did it disappear?”

“When one with our power dies, we become whatever we are—a form of energy. Our bodies and everything on our person explodes into thousands of lights.”

“That’s crazy. Just like that?”

“That is yet another enigma. There are several theories on this precise subject, but none have any evidence.”

Vincent got up and approached the slit window, looking outside at the void. It was all so confusing.

“So, are you saying I will remember Oryon’s memories?” he asked.

“Honestly…” Duell shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never been acquaintances with anyone who went through the Texanorra or even heard of it being performed. But I hope you’ll remember. Our future might depend on the information you hold.”

Vincent sighed. “Will I ever find my way back home?”

“I will not lie to you, Vincent,” Duell replied. “The odds are a billion to one. It might take longer than expected. For now, you must remain with us. I will show you the Galactic Map once we get to Urtan, but I must warn you it’s—”

Vincent whirled around. “Vast?”

Duell nodded.

“Well, is there anyone else that can help me?” Vincent persisted.

“No, only yourself. It’ll come to you eventually, just like everything else. Na’ar has seen you with his very eyes. Therefore, you must not discuss your origins with anyone else.”

“He’s probably already on the most wanted list,” Spaide said.

“And you resemble us more than any of the other races,” Gaia added.

“Not to mention he held a Palermius sword. Looks like the price on our heads is gonna quadruple.”

“There’s another thing I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Vincent sat down. “I happened to notice that most of the people on that ship—if not all—were Xenian.”

Duell and Gaia traded nods. Spaide shrugged as Vincent looked over at him and motioned to the Xenians to deliver the answer.

“My people,” Duell began, “the Sinkha’ar, a sublime Xenian race, are the ones who started this. It first began on our homeplanet, Xenon, as a military conflict between the races, with the Sinkha’ar emerging as the victors. Based on the philosophy of Velianor Lombardo, a Warrior Sage, the Sinkha’ar united all the Xenian nations and seceded from the Galactic Federation, which was the coalition of the advanced civilizations at the time.

“While the Federation placed an embargo on our system, we produced millions of weapons with our ‘Genesis’ technology, one which could manipulate matter. And then began the Sinkha’ar campaign. It started with several planets and eventually escalated into an all-out Intergalactic War between those loyal to the Federation and the separatist movement headed by the Xenians.”

Vincent was listening with awe, getting the gist of information on the Republic.

“Great minds can create devastating weapons,” the Xenian continued. “The galaxy was not ready for the weaponry we possessed. Those few standing in the way of the mighty Sinkha’ar Empire were simply wiped out or subdued by force. Eventually, this system was created, this hypocritical Imperial Republic…” He paused, clenched his jaw, and then said, “The best form of tyranny is an illusion of freedom.”

“So you fight your own people?” Vincent was stunned. “While the rest of the galaxy hates and despises you?”

“Because we have the power to do so,” Duell answered ardently. “It is our responsibility.”

“Not all of us believe that the galaxy needs to be controlled,” Gaia added. “Rather than freeing it from the plutocrats of the Federation, we placed it in the hands of dictators. I have advocated democracy for my entire life and tried to get our people to realize what we were doing. But now, I see the truth. I see through the shadowy veil that’s pulled over the eyes of the Xenians and others who could make change.”

“That general,” Vincent asked, “the one named Na’ar, is he a Warrior Sage as well?”

Duell explained further, “Like I’ve said before, the power of the Tel Kasar transfers from parent to offspring. After many generations, there were dozens of Xenians with our psionic powers. But there were only ten swords. We formed a secret academy with a council made up of sword wielders. The council then had to choose their successors from the best students through a voting system. They should’ve known that a disagreement was inevitable… They should’ve known the dangers of people’s ego…

“Seventy years ago, the ten families engaged in a conflict that obliterated almost every Warrior Sage save for one: Sezan Krynne, Oryon’s father. He took it upon himself to continue the brotherhood and sought others who were gifted. After his untimely death, his students split the brotherhood apart. Na’ar and I were Oryon’s pupils when he left the Republic… I remained loyal to Oryon, and Na’ar didn’t.”

“So the Republic’s controlled by the Tel Kasar as well?”

“That’s the terrible
truth
the people of Xenon are unaware of: that the entire Imperial Republic is controlled by an ancient group of warriors. Most people laugh at the very idea.”

“They simply don’t care!” Gaia added. “Not as long as they live their lavish lifestyles while the rest of the galaxy suffers from famine and slavery! While sadistic bastards like Zeth commit mass genocide and Barathon fills the air with his lies!”

Vincent looked at them in puzzlement, but with utmost respect. Here they were, fighting their own kind even though they could’ve lived the life of luxury by ruling the galaxy.

“It’s imperative that you remain with us, Saturn,” Duell said.

Vincent finally came to terms by saying, “Okay. It doesn’t look like I have that much of a choice anyway.” And then added, “Plus, I’m getting used to you guys. In a few hours, I’ve had more close encounters with death than I’ve had my whole life.”

“If you think the rescue was bad, wait till you see where we’re headed,” Spaide managed to sputter.

“He’s not a prisoner,” Duell said. “If he wishes to go, he may.”

Go?
Where to?
These absurd words made no sense to Vincent. He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. He was done discussing the issues. Now it was time to process what he’d learned.

“So, Princess”—Duell turned to Gaia after taking time to answer Vincent’s questions—“would you mind elaborating what you were doing on Urtan?”

“Observing the situation,” she replied. “The Urtans rose up against the Order last week. Thousands of lives were lost, but they managed to drive out the enemy, destroy their weapons, and kill the Order’s governor. Now the Urtans are demanding independence and recognition of their system, while Damien Dark and the Order are outraged that I brought this situation to a stalemate and stopped them from forcibly retaking the planet they think is rightfully theirs.”

“Your father regarded the Urtans with a passion.”

“Urtan’s still unbeknownst to Xenians. As far as they’re concerned, it’s an ‘off-world’ with no resources and is an interplanetary-recognized part of the Order. I’m the only hope they have in achieving autonomy. I’ve managed to bring this case before the Council, but as I was leaving Urtan, my ship was attacked…” She turned in her seat to fully face the Xenian master. “I told Galadan to contact only one man in case something happens to me—Oryon Krynne, the man my father told me to fully trust.”

“Zeth,” Duell grated, slightly frowning. “He has a hand in this.”

“Cosmos is outraged,” Gaia continued. “He’s gathering the entire Horde. They’ll wipe out everyone on Urtan unless Galadan convinces the Council. I barely persuaded Vermont to hear his plea.” She paused, her long lashes masking the sadness in her lavender eyes. “At last, Urtan will speak for itself, and perhaps the Republic will listen...”

She looked down. “They managed to keep me out of the situation, though,” she said with dismay.

“Forgive me for saying this, but the Republic cannot afford upsetting a valuable vassal state, especially during these few years of tranquility,” Duell said. “Without your presence, the conflict will no longer be frozen. They’ll simply grant the Order the right to retake Urtan.”

“I will not stand by and watch these people get slaughtered by that demonic cult!” Gaia stood up, shouting out her cause. “I will no longer condone genocide! I have ruined my entire career for this. I swore on my father’s grave that as long as I continue serving on the Council, I’ll never let the horrors that occurred on
Seturcica
repeat themselves!” She took a deep breath and said, “I don’t really care what happens to me. I will undoubtedly get arrested for your rescue the very second I set my foot on Xenon… but that doesn’t matter. Only the lives of Urtans matter. You have to help us, Duell!”

“Wow,” Spaide said. “Such fervor. Is it too late to apologize?”