The Rising Sun: Episode 1 (2 page)

A voice spoke
through a harsh signal:

“This is
Captain Ron, speaking from the King’s ship. We are heading in for
landing. Over.”

Pan held the
z-com close to his lips and replied, “Captain Ron, this is director
Pan. We are opening the hatch,” His eyes rose to the roof hanging
far above them all. “You can bring the ship in. Over.”

Turning to a
worker, Pan signaled towards the roof. The worker bustled off
towards a nearby control table, and hit a few buttons on it.

Argos felt his
eyes wander to the roof, and as he watched, it slid out in two
large halves to reveal a pitch black expanse of night sky. Within a
few seconds, the sound of a loud electrical engine drowned the
bustle in the room. A large, elegantly modeled ship glided in from
one side, right over the opening in the roof. The King’s ship
carried a touch of majesty, a silver gleam cast in the moonlight.
Two large wings stretched out on opposite sides. The ship tilted to
a side mildly as it sank lower, so that its wings fitted through
the opening.

The workers
slowly backed away, clearing around a large circle at the centre of
the hall. The ship floated down to a gentle landing in the middle
of the hall, its feet touching the ground with a slight
shudder.

Pan’s z-com
beeped again.

“This is
Captain Ron,” said the same voice, as he answered the call. “I’m
opening the ramp. The King and his councilmen will be down it
now.

Pan held the
device close to his mouth, smiling. “Thanks Ron. Over and out.”

A large
rectangular strip slowly dislodged from beneath the ship, landing
on the ground below as a ramp.

Pan drew in a
deep breath.
Here we go…

The entire hall
held its eyes to the ramp, waiting.

And then, a
dead body came rolling down the ramp…

And then
another … and another … and another…

As the pile of
bodies collected on the floor beneath the ramp, Pan felt his mind
blaze with horror, unable to believe what his eyes were
relaying…

The King and
his councilmen.

They were all
dead.

A ghastly sense
of horror swept over the entire room. The workers gaped at the
bodies of their state’s dead leaders with mortified looks.

Ripples of
chaos were slowly breaking across the death like silence that had
gripped the place. The workers covered their mouths in shock, all
of their widened eyes fixed on the King and his councilmen’s
bodies. Some of them were slowly edging backwards from the hall,
while others stood rigidly, shock still rooting them to the
spot.

Finding himself
again, Pan dialled for the captain. “Captain Ron, do you read me?!
The King and his councilmen are–”

“-dead.”
finished the same voice … but the voice was strangely different
now, as though it had shed something which it did not previously
own. Ever word it spoke now seemed to emit an icy chill. “Dear man,
too bad of you not to have guessed that at the start itself … as
you also should have guessed that my real name is not Ron. And I’m
not the King’s captain.”

Pan slowly
lowered the z-com, his fingers trembling. The revelation crossed
his mind like a dagger driven through it: there was a madman inside
of that ship right now…

A madman
responsible for murdering the leaders of their state…

That instant,
he felt the situation spin to a whole new degree of graveness.

“Who … are
you?” he spoke slowly into the z-com, his breathing now turning
rugged.

The silence on
the other side of the line stretched on for a few moments, over
which only a soft, hiss like breathing was heard … And then the
cold voice spoke again.

“I am nothing …
I am a meek speck in the universe’s sheet. I am the dust gathered
beneath our creator’s feet. It hardly ever counts what we are. What
counts … is what we do.”

Without
thinking, Pan shot his gaze towards the line of Rash-cons by the
side of the wall. “Cons –Surround the ship!
Now!
”

As if
electrified, the robots sprang into action, bolting forward and
surrounding the ramp ahead of the ship. They drew their guns and
pointed at the ramp. Ready to shoot at command.

“Whoever you
are,” breathed Pan, holding the z-com tightly as he spoke into it.
“We’ve got the ship surrounded. There’s nowhere you can run … so
come out with your hands raised now!”

Silence
absorbed the line for a few more seconds, and then the man gave a
soft laugh. “Careful what you wish for…”

And a shadow
formed at the top of the ramp, slowly elongating … and a group of
five cloaked figures slowly descended the length of the ramp, with
hoods drawn over their heads.

The air seemed
to freeze in tension, as the people in the hall held their breaths.
The Rash-cons kept their postures on edge, all of their guns held
steady in aim at the five men waking down the ramp. And as the men
strode down with an exaggerated elegance, Pan knew that something
was wrong. There were two dozen loaded weapons pointed at them, and
yet the five unarmed men came strutting without the meanest hint of
fear or panic … as though they believed there wasn’t a thing in the
world that could harm them.

The seconds
crawled by, and the five cloaked men reached the base of the ramp.
The man in the centre reached for his hood and pulled it down. Pan
felt his eyes grow wide slowly, as they processed what they were
seeing…

The man’s skin
was a horrid, corpse gray. His hair was long and black, parted in
frames before his face. But it was his eyes … it was what Pan saw
beneath the creature’s eyes sockets that made his blood go dry.

For the man
had
no eyes.

Just two empty
sockets that stared out into the room. With a swirl of darkness
within both of them … His teeth, sharp like a shark’s, revealed
themselves in a nasty smile. The creature looked directly at Pan
and spoke in the same voice from the z-com, his soft words ringing
over the death like silence:

“…cause you
just might get it.”

Without
warning, the man threw both hands up. As if hoisted by an invisible
rope, the Rash-cons in front of him rose into the high, graceful
and serene, as though flying. They paused there, floating in mid
air. Then, with the sound of crunching metal, the group of robots
were crushed in mid air. Their splintered remains fell back on the
ground.

Time seemed to
have frozen. The realisation landed upon the room with the force of
a hammer blow:

These were
mystics.

And the very
next second, chaos exploded in the hall with a volcanic blast: the
workers’ high pitched screams tore the air as they threw each other
out of the way in a race for their lives, out of this room … and
away from the five deadly creatures standing in the hall’s
middle.

Forcing down
the panic, Pan whirled around to look for Argos. But the security
manager was lost somewhere in the blur of the raging crowds.
Struggling to contain himself, he spun back around … and there,
dead ahead of him, stood the eyeless creature, the leader of the
five mystics. He was standing a foot away from pan. But his blank
sockets were resting steadily over Pan. As though he could see him
… despite having no eyes.

“If there is
one miracle in our world,” The man held up both hands, gesturing to
the roaring mayhem all over the hall. “It would be the miracle … of
chaos.”

Whatever Pan
could summon of his voice left him as a dry whisper:

“
What are
you?
”

“The same thing
you are.” The man’s shark like teeth exposed as he smiled. “Just
without the side called sanity.”

There was a
sudden sweep of wind as Pan witnessed the man’s fist fly into view
… and his world was sucked into darkness.

__________

Zardin let his
eyeless stare linger over the body of the unconscious director.
With no eyes, he did not have external vision. But he had something
far, far more powerful.

Inner
vision.

And through it,
he could feel the world around him and his surroundings crafted to
the finest possible clarity. He could view every minute detail of
the world around through his powerful mystical eye within. And
every blur of the chaos storming the large hall around him fell to
his grasp as he stood there, the seconds prolonged.

His four men
stood by either side, their eyes scanning the entire place and the
chaos immersing it.

“Well, let’s go
get what we came for.” Zardin said, and the five of them swept down
the hall, entering one of the passageways on the wall across the
other side.

The high
pitched squeal of emergency alarms were heard blaring all over the
building. Zardin listened to the ringing of chaos, the sound like
music to his ears.

As they reached
the end of the passageway, emerging into another room, they stopped
and scanned the place. The room was a pentagon shaped one, with
desks aligned against the walls on all four sides. There was a door
on each corner, shut. Sealed in glass containers that were mounted
over the desks, were a group of floating devices, all of which were
engineered by this company. Some of them were guns, others were
mere remote control like devices.

The men walked
to the centre of the room, their eyes carrying over the range of
device floating inside of the sealed containers. They scanned the
line of devices carefully, pausing for a second over each one.

But Zardin had
drunk in every detail of that room, and its contents, the very
second he stepped into it. As the men scanned the line of devices,
he clenched his teeth. A growl of anger escaped him.

“It’s not
here.” He turned to the others. “Let’s go check-”

But before he
finished his sentence, the doors all around them swept open at
once, and Rash-cons poured in from all sides, all of their guns
aiming at the five cloaked figures at the centre. Before the men
could move, the robots’ guns erupted. Jets of deadly blue light
sailed at the five mystics from all directions as the robots closed
in on them. Pelleting them with energy shots.

The men reacted
at thoughtspeed, hurling themselves out of the way of the shots all
at once. Zardin felt himself soar over the air, landing heavily on
all fours. His hand flew to the handle emerging from behind him. He
grasped the handle and pulled it, and a steely, metallic hiss
filled the air as his blade left its sheath. Drawing the long, thin
sword, Zardin twirled it once, then held it steady before him. The
robots were pouring in from all doors and engulfing the place.
Spurting jets of light all across it.

Zardin took in
a quick breath, and let his mind go granite with focus and resolve.
There was a dazzling flash of light before him. And the next
second, his sword was ablaze: the blade of his sword was now
shining in a bright orange colour. Wisps of a steam like vapour
escaped the shining blade. Across the room, the other mystics had
also drawn their swords, and had ignited them.

A group of
Rash-cons closed in on Zardin, all of them shooting at him
relentlessly so that jets of light flooded him from all sides.
Zardin allowed the ghost of a smile to escape his lips. And then he
began…

He swung his
sword around at such an insanely fast speed that the ignited blade
cut off every one of the shots sent at him. The feeble jets of
light sent at him were no match for Zardin’s fierce swiftness, as
he used his blazing sword to block all of the shots at the speed of
wind.

As the robots
surrounding him prepared to fire a second tirade of shots, Zardin
leapt forward, his sword slashing at the air ahead in two quick
swipes. Three of the Rash-cons standing ahead of him fell prey to
his sword, falling to the ground in chopped robot pieces. Zardin
spun to his right, sending his sword straight through a line of
three more on his right. Before they hit the ground, he leaped
backwards, slicing at the group behind him in mid air. His feet met
the ground before them, and the last trio of Rash-cons clattered to
the ground, sliced.

Wherever his
sword had cut the robots, an orange radiation glow lingered,
releasing puffs of steam. Zardin drew in a slow breath, then raised
his attention. The four others had finished off the remaining swath
of robots around the room. All that remained now of the Rash-cons
lay littered over the floor in a pool of sliced robot parts that
were still steaming where the mystics’ swords had cut them.

Zardin doused
his blade: the fiery orange glow as gone, leaving it in its normal
silver gleam again. As he slid the sword back into its sheath slung
behind him, the four others followed, and gathered by him. The men
looked about the room, their eyes travelling over the sealed glass
containers one last time.

“It isn’t here,
master.” one of them said as he finished looking over the desks,
averting his gaze to his leader.

“I know it
isn’t.” said Zardin. “Let’s go.”