Threnody

By Matthew Broyles

At the edge of the galaxy, shadows gather. The true dark, not merely the absence of light. At the vanguard of its advance, the youngest of a near-immortal race is flung into the fulcrum of cosmic history.

In order to solve the mystery of the shadows, he must first unravel the riddle of his species' existence, a secret which has been well hidden for over 20,000 years.

What he finds will change everything.

From the author of Rewired comes an adventure into deep space, both without and within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543918656

Book preview

Dedicated to Mr. Jackson

©2017 Matthew Broyles

Published by Naive Books

First printing, November 2017

ISBN: 9781543918656

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.

www.matthewbroyles.com

Table of Contents

Part 1: Shadows

Part 2: Terminus

Part 3: The Beginning

Part 4: The End

Part 5: Lumen Novum

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Part I:

Shadows

ᵜ

First, the stars go out.

Sound becomes suggestion. Light, a glowing shadow. Time, a memory. You have been taken out of reality. Or so it seems. In truth, you have finally come face to face with the very core of what is real. This central state of being does not explain itself, as the overworld does. It simply is, and will always be.

The questions you ask are swept along in your wake, slipping through pinpricks in the porous fabric of this, the universe’s backstage scrim. To receive an answer is to have transcended the question. To become a native of this space, never to return to the mundane sphere of galaxies, lightspeed, and the quantum fluctuations of the elements.

You have become a god.

- Eschaltus, The Void

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ᵜᵜ

What you dreaming, lad?

Threnody’s sensors fluttered, chiming the dissonant chord they always did when the outside world rattled the sublimity of his communion with the masters. He turned to regard his mentor, who, to Threnody’s constant bewilderment, appeared to have no inner life whatsoever.

Mystron Void-gazing, no doubt… Kaltiss rumbled knowingly, her colors shifting rusty with impatience.

Threnody could tell he had probably dreamed through another appointed task, and stirred the synthetic stretches of his synapses to flush the banal data out.

The krahl vines, he remembered, his shell flashing purple in apology. Forgiveness, Kaltiss. Biological necessities are still a difficult area for me to master. I will feed them.

Forgiveness seems to be my main job these days, the seasoned trader groused, not without a current of warmth. Vaguely, she remembered the ephemerality of duty that came with youth, though such memories were a millennium distant. Go on. The mysteries of the universe will be there when you get back.

Through the portholes of the Skipship, Uzon’s greenish horizon curved lazily. The planet’s drought had largely receded after many years of anomalous atmospheric turbulence, but the Xaji Trading Authority wasn’t taking any chances. Uzon contained the galaxy’s second-largest known supply of chrinium, without which much of Xaji technology could not function. Providing orbital farming assistance in exchange for unlimited access to chrinium deposits was an easy trade.

Kaltiss was among the most highly regarded traders of the species, though due to her relative youth, she had not yet risen to a supervisory position within the Authority. For now, she was a field agent, and happily so. At just over a thousand years old, she was still spry enough to enjoy the adventure of travel. Thankfully, her apprentice was aged merely 75, so the wide variety of planets, nebulas, and natural wonders of the galaxy still awed and thrilled him to no end. Kaltiss preferred that energy to the staid, monastic ways of the elders back home on Xajus. It kept her feeling young.

In the Skipship’s cargo hold, Threnody’s thin, nimble fingers rustled through a bag of dried veetle larvae, gathering up a healthy handful to sprinkle on the central root. Krahl vines were carnivorous, but additionally required large amounts of water and photosynthetic stimulation to grow. They were also the primary food source for the denizens of Uzon, who were vegetarians. Farming krahl was tricky, for if they got too large, their voracious appetites became a threat to those who would harvest them. During the years of drought, however, such concerns had faded dramatically.

Thick shoots spread throughout the back end of the ship, curling around scaffolding built for maximum yield. Overhead lights exuded rays mimicking the system’s hot blue sun. The vines were quite healthy, and would feed many. Threnody was not a farmer by inclination, but his devotion to the preservation of life was strong.

Deftly, he spread the veetle larvae in a circular pattern around the bulbous center of the colony. Instantly, scores of tiny plant mouths rose up from the soil, gobbling the grubs greedily before burying themselves once more. Threnody often felt as if he heard the vines growing after a meal, though his sensors reported no such sonic activity. Perhaps he would resonate on the thought later, on the chance that some aspect of the vines protruded into a dimension sympathetic to his core’s frequencies.

Looks good enough to eat, no? Kaltiss said from the doorway. Her thick shell was blue with humor.

For the Uzoni, yes, Threnody affirmed. In fact, I would say it is ripe for harvest.

Agreed, lad. Perhaps a trip to the magistrate’s house is in order. And a call to the Authority.

The Authority? Threnody asked, tentatively.

My analysis shows that onworld vine farms are producing at levels not seen since before the drought. In my professional opinion, our mission here is over. I have documented my conclusions, and will send them to Xajus soon.

You mean…we might get a new assignment? Threnody said, the yellow glow of hope visible upon his chestplate.

Kaltiss nodded her bulky head, a quaint gesture inherited from the Ancestors. Maybe one a little less agricultural. I don’t mind saying that if I ever see another krahl vine, it’ll be too soon.

Threnody flashed blue. On this topic, they were united. Do you think we could stop by a post en route? I need a few supplies for my upgrades.

Moving a little quickly there, youngster. I haven’t yet put in the report. However, yes. I could do with some fresh ammunition myself.

While at their chrinium-encased core, all Xaji were more alike than not, externally their forms varied wildly. Kaltiss and Threnody embraced the traditional bipedal look, though on different scales. Kaltiss preferred a low center of gravity, held up by trunklike legs extending from her girthsome abdomen. After several hundred years of experimentation, she had settled on a two-armed design. Upon her broad shoulders and all over her midsection, the outlines of hatches hinted at the range of tools and weaponry which could be deployed from racks of gear presently hidden from view.

In contrast, Threnody’s body favored elegant simplicity. Tall and reed-thin, he moved with impressive grace. His utility compartments were few and small, set into thighs and belly, but they contained useful analytical and manipulative tools for fine-tuning his myriad experiments. A small but powerful disruptor pistol was his sole concession to the realities of a dangerous universe. It had never been fired.

However, the most noteworthy difference between the two was facial construction. Like most Xaji, Kaltiss kept her visage spare, with merely a color-shifting circular light at its center to approximate an eye. This she retained primarily due to the social realities of interacting with many species, who needed something central to focus on when addressing a being.

These considerations were paramount in Threnody’s design. Though much more clumsily rendered than he would prefer, upon his face sat two multicolored circles approximating eyes, and a silicone-lined mouth which appeared to form the words his body’s speech output spoke. It was effective. Though Kaltiss was the chief trader on their ship, most clients preferred speaking in Threnody’s direction, even when addressing the older Xaji. Threnody’s face, though illusory, seemed more real to them than Kaltiss’ unblinking, blank countenance. This was not lost on the veteran, who as a result had seriously considered a refit to augment her trading skills. But the look still threw her off, unaccountably. Facial expressiveness was not a part of Xaji tradition.

Let’s deliver some goods, Kaltiss said. The Skipship’s subspace thrusters fired at her invisible command, and the planet’s surface grew to fill the porthole.

And the report? Threnody asked.

Just sent it, the trader replied. How’s that for efficiency?

You are a good mentor, Kaltiss.

And you are my favorite apprentice.

I’m your only apprentice.

I love irrefutable logic, Kaltiss said, a faint blue tinge skittering across her forehead. You do the talking this time. The magistrate likes you better.

As you wish, Threnody replied, and gazed down upon the green surface. I presume the miner bots will be here soon.

Late, as usual. Irdil is thorough, if not punctual. Probably spent an extra few weeks hollowing out that asteroid range near Qvenis. Between that and our trove here on Uzon, the Council will have chrinium enough to go around.

Good, Threnody said, sincerely. His imagination thrummed with designs, but all required inclusion of the rare ore. The less the Council hoarded the supply for necessities, the better.

As the carven granite facade of the Uzoni magistrate’s complex hove into view, Threnody stowed his dreamlife for later retrieval. Business was a suit that ill fit him, but he had grown to accept that life was not ideal. Given the lot of most species in the galaxy, his was a position which he was most grateful to occupy. For now.

ᵜᵜ

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Falta examined his readings again. His shell sputtered red in frustration. Hertex regarded him warily.

It’s definitely there, Falta said. Or not, as the case may be. It is a verifiable phenomenon, of that we can be sure.

But on that scale? Hertex exclaimed. Shadow particles do not cluster so. They cannot.

That logic was sound. And yet here the two Xaji mystrons were, lightyears beyond galaxy’s edge, staring into that which could not be. Their advanced Skipship had taken them as close to the anomaly as was advisable, and even at this range the outline was indistinct. Yet if pressed, Falta would have had to admit that it looked very much like a ship.

By focusing more on what was absent than present, his wide chest projected a shape upon the wall. Long, ovoid, with round flares increasing in size towards the rear. No discernable drive mechanism, but traveling at considerable speed. Hertex had adjusted their own momentum to match its path. Which, in a matter of weeks, would hurl the strange phantom into the outer reaches of the galaxy. Their galaxy, where as far as they knew, nothing of its sort had ever been detected.

They had tried hailing the object along every known communications spectrum, to no avail. Yet Falta knew somehow, without being able to account for the reason he knew, that something sentient controlled the mass of nothingness. It just…felt alive.

We have to get closer, he decided.

Hertex flashed orange and red in disbelief, two of her four arms flailing. We certainly do not! There is no help out here. If we are damaged, it will be weeks before the rescue ship arrives!

If we do not get more data, we will not be able to advise Terminus Station as to what they are in for! Surely you’ve noticed its trajectory?

I am unconvinced that it is a ship, Hertex maintained, pulsing a purple note of conciliation. Before rushing in, we must try all means of examination…

Like what? Falta replied, shell still flashing red. What haven’t we tried?

Shooting it, Hertex said, simply.

Aggression? Falta sputtered, now solid crimson. Towards the first known intergalactic visitor we have ever encountered? That is our opening overture?

We have tried communication, and have all detectors turned to full sensitivity. If it will not respond, we have to entertain the possibility that it is hostile.

A moment ago you said it wasn’t a ship.

It may not be. It could be a projectile. Or even a life form in and of itself. In any case, we must know its capabilities. You agree that Terminus needs as much information as can be collected?

Falta turned a sour brown. Yes, but…

And if indeed those are shadow particles, getting closer could render null our ability to acquire data.

He had to concede the point. Agreed. But weaponry…

Non-lethal, Hertex interjected. If it is comprised in the way you suggest, live ammunition would be ineffective anyway. Send a sensor cluster.

How will they know we aren’t attacking them?

An orange-brown oscillation sighed across Hertex’s angular frame, rippling down through her four tapering legs. Right now, I’m more concerned about what we don’t know than what they do.

Falta appeared to rust in place, differing shades of brown rising and falling in small, alternating patches across his broad shoulders and blocky head. The closer they got to Terminus, the more answers they would need. And they had been studying the anomaly for two solid days now. No new discoveries seemed forthcoming. It wasn’t a good choice, but maybe they didn’t have any of those.

Launch sensor cluster, he said, at last. Do not activate until just before contact.

Hertex flashed white in the affirmative, and silently commanded the ship. Through the porthole, a shiny gray oval hurtled away towards the ominous hole in the sky. It bothered them both, the unknowability of the bizarre spectre. Looking at it now, the thing hardly even seemed to exist. If it were a thing at all. It was more like a…not-thing.

The cluster container drew near, and with a small puff, dispersed its contents: An array of tiny multi-spectrum sensors, the most advanced in the Xaji arsenal, and therefore in the entire galaxy. Falta studied their data streams furtively, looking for anything that might deviate from the known background noise of interstellar space. Incredulously, he saw nothing whatsoever…

*KRZZZT*

Both Xaji turned solid red as the sensors’ transmissions shot out intolerable static. Hertex cut the feed first, and pulled up the tracking data. All sensors had disappeared.

Did the feed catch that? Falta asked, his ruby shell shifting towards orange.

We’ve been on nonstop broadcast since the sensors launched, Hertex confirmed.

Quickly, Falta’s chest projected an image from the feed, and confirmed his suspicions: The moment the sensors got within a few feet of the object, they vanished. Or rather, they…transitioned. Looking closer, he could still make out the sensors’ outlines, even as they flew directly into the dark mass.

It was exactly as if they had been turned into shadows.

A mass calculation would be meaningless, given the loose approximation they had of the anomaly’s size. If the miniscule sensors had been absorbed, it would be nearly impossible to tell.

Falta, look… Hertex called, cascading orange and red waves down her abdomen. She was indicating the porthole, upon which they had superimposed the ship’s onboard sensor readout. Barely visible, but certainly detectable now that they knew what to look for, two small dark absences rushed towards them, too close and fast now to be avoided via Skip.

I KNEW IT!! Falta cried, activating his audio encoder and attaching it to the outgoing data stream. Terminus, we have suspected contact with intergalactic alien vessel! Indeterminate in nature, somehow either consisting of or employing shadow particles. Inbound to Terminus, present coordinates noted…

The Skipship bucked as the two projectiles made contact. Hertex cycled the ship through its surface countermeasures, but within seconds, was inundated with reports of hull failure. These notifications blinked out one after another, from adjacent zones, expanding outward from the point of impact. With sudden horror, she knew what was happening.

EJECT!! Hertex called, transmitting directly into Falta’s audio net, but she was ignored as the flabbergasted mystron babbled his frantic missive to Terminus. Hertex grabbed her supervisor and wrestled him bodily towards the hatch opposite the impact. Falta was heavy and unwieldy, and not particularly cooperative, distracted as he was, so several precious seconds were wasted dragging him across the gunmetal gray floor.

Triggering the hatch with a thought, Hertex spared a look back, and blanched orange-red in terror. Along the far side of the ship, all that had once been sleek and shiny now swallowed the light. The nothingness advanced, shredding the interstices between atoms, rendering all that was visible into void.

With a mighty push, Hertex lunged out the portal, casting herself and Falta into interstellar space. A space they would once have called the darkness, but where, just behind them, a more profound darkness held sway.

An alarm shot up from one of Hertex’s legs. In panic, she detached it, and upon seeing its receding arc, was glad she did. Before her optics, its matter was being transformed into shadow.

Hertex, something’s wrong… Falta called, his broadcast home abruptly interrupted. Let go, let go!!

Swiftly, Hertex obeyed, and flashed bright red as she took in her supervisor’s predicament. Using her body’s thrusters, she put distance between them.

I’m sorry, Hertex, Falta said, shell dark green in regret. I should have moved faster…

Falta’s arms and legs were now mere silhouettes, and his head began to shift into the abyssal ether.

Eject your core!! Hertex cried. Bodies were replaceable, Xaji cores weren’t.

I can’t take that chance… Falta replied, losing clarity as his body was consumed. Besides, we need to know if they eat chrinium…tell Terminus if they do…

Falta!! Hertex shouted, glowing red now in anger and frustration. Before her, the remains of her compatriot, core and all, dissolved into a cloud of shadows. She pulled her dampeners tight as Falta’s core imploded, sending shock waves through the dimensional rifts they shared. The death of one Xaji was felt by all, but physical distance would dull the blow for everyone light years away. Even dampened, the implosion hit Hertex hard, as sharp energy spikes crackled through her innermost self. She held on for what seemed like an eternity, until the very last of the state of being which had once been designated Xaji Falta dissolved back into the chaos from which it was born.

Thrusting backwards crazily, Hertex fled the shifting undulations left behind by Falta’s disintegration. Presently, the swarm lengthened, forming a streamlined ribbon that threaded its way back towards the shadowy remains of their Skipship, which was itself roiling dark against the relatively less dark blackness of space.

The anomaly had pulled closer, and Hertex watched with a mixture of terror and fascination as it sucked up the blighted husk of her only way home. If she had been pressed, she would have sworn the thing grew as it absorbed the not-matter into itself. When at last all shadows had merged with the larger one, the blot against the sky accelerated, receding quickly until no trace of its bulk could be detected between the distant stars.

Despair rushed in to supplant fear as Hertex considered her predicament. Yes, Terminus would receive the calamitous data stream from the ship’s final moments. But how much of the vessel’s disintegration had been broadcast, and had their escape been witnessed? Would they send the rescue ship, having witnessed such power, on the off chance that there were survivors? If it had been Hertex’s call, they wouldn’t.

There was only one option, and an uncertain one at that. Drawing her limbs tight, she nulled her external sensors. Nothing was going to be happening around her body for quite some time, if indeed ever. Channeling all energy inward, she released the dimensional dampeners around her core, and began to resonate. A warm glow suffused her anima, and she cast out tendrils of awareness through the fissures between this space, the surging foam of realms both adjacent and impossibly remote, and the Void through which they all traveled, separately but inextricably entwined.

I am Xaji Hertex.

You are all in great danger.

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ᵜᵜᵜᵜ

Threnody dwelt in fields of green.

Grass, then ocean, interpolating solid and liquid, waves crashing upon white shores of sand and snow. Displacements lumbered below: Roqueseal, threadworm, leviathan.

A thread, spun of light and silk,