Chapter 1
A special day
Ordinarily, the night brings a gentle chill after the sun melts into the horizon. Tonight, however, was an anomaly. Out on a patch of sandy ground, a man with a weathered face was crisping up in the heat. Right where he stood, the air burned hotter than the punishing midday sun. The brutal daytime heat, fierce enough to fry an egg on a rock, was nothing compared to this absolute inferno. He would have given anything for a drop of oil to soothe his leathery skin! Instead, all he had on hand was a spear, surrounded by absolute chaos. The local tribe was scrambling in a panic like a cornered purrer trapped indoors. Screams, shrieks, and claws... or rather, blades, of course.
A ring of fire held the village in its grip, all because of the wooden fence lining its borders—a makeshift local palisade. Standing no taller than a man, this defensive wall was woven from mere brushwood and could easily be kicked right through. Nobody had expected the enemy to be men armed with fire. Ordinarily, the only intruders were wild beasts looking to raid the barn supplies. But now, the fence burned with a towering blaze, leaving the villagers no way out of the trap of fire and smoke.
The well, which served as the central squarewas occupied by the enemy. The defenders’ counterattack was underway. Mothers from the tribe scrambled toward a single spot at the edge of the village, on the side opposite the gate exit along the ring wall. The fire threw off a sharp, stinging heat, keeping the young women with infants in their arms from charging straight through. There was no smashing through it like a battering ram breaking down walls, nor was there any hope of gathering water in their clay pots—vessels so small they could barely hold thirty or forty gulps anyway.
The only man around rushed toward them in a panic. To the young women, he didn’t look like a coward fleeing the battlefield while the other men, who had grabbed spears and knives, fought off the enemy. Instead, he was a savior, a man ready to break through the palisade with his own body. Without a word, he understood what needed to be done. Stripping off his tunic to the ground and throwing caution to the wind, the human battering ram took a short running start. Squinting as he lined up his target, he leaned his right shoulder forward and lunged at the palisade, thrusting his hands out at the very last second. The barrier gave way. The man tumbled to the dirt, but he didn’t even have time to register the sting of his burns before an enemy lunged forward, ruthlessly riddling him with a spear. Terrified, the mothers fled.Indeed, the enemy hadn’t just blocked every exit untouched by the flames; they were deliberately lying in wait for any local trying to slip through.
It was a special day, painted in red, though it was certainly up for debate which there was more of: fire or blood. But this particular red-letter day would be monumental, for it was the planet’s very first war. War had tasted only a fraction of the blood to come. And the guest of honor—the oldest among the invading horde—was a thirty-year-old old man.
No, he didn’t have gray hair—maybe only the soot and ash made his locks look dusted with white. His leathery skin had long since lost its ability to feel the bite of fire. While those around him shielded their faces with one hand and gripped their spears with the other, the old man simply stood there, watching his soldiers clash with the local militia. If you could even call these ragtags a militia. He wasn’t used to a battle fought with knives and sticks, or to soldiers like these—half-naked and draped in rags. To him, warfare meant gastraphetes(rifle) primed with plasma powder, tactical map displays, strategic orders, and casualty counts on the evening news. Not this localized chaos, the men bellowing war cries, and the shrieks of the dying. One man was screaming from spear thrusts; several blades had pierced his massive frame, and he was in pure agony.
As for the old man, his adrenaline crashed within the opening minutes of the battle. He could have delivered the killing blow with his spear, but the enemy’s gaze—begging for mercy right in front of him—completely disarmed him. The enemy was essentially defenseless, on his knees with his head tucked between his shoulders—a sentry completely resigned to capture. The old man couldn’t bring himself to personally deal out fate. Besides, what would be the point? He had already given the order for this bloody night anyway. His men, however, shared no such weakness; the enemy was cut down by his right-hand. The subordinate commander, utterly devoid of empathy, simply drove his spear home and kept running, leaving the two of them behind. The old man had seen plenty of death in his lifetime—far too much of it. But like this? Taking a man’s life face-to-face? Instead, he always pictured himself as the victim—lying in his own blood on the floor of a crowded polis, crying out for his mother while an indifferent crowd walked right past. His own gaze mirroring that of the helpless sentry. Why had they even attacked this tribe? Why?
«Jeus... you kynopes (monster). This was supposed to end back then!
Limping heavily, another old man advanced toward him. With cold pity, he drove a spear into the soldier who had stepped up to defend Jeus. The enemy elder tossed the fallen man aside—he’d impaled the body cleanly, but he was after bigger game.
“Jeus, this is it! It all ends now! I’m not giving you a chance! Not again!”
The old man—Jeus, that is—stood frozen, trying to recall the day his enemy was talking about. Did he mean the day they first met? Here, or back there? No, it had all started right in the middle of everything.
That day, it all started with a local haze that was gradually dissipating. Meanwhile, a song was humming inside his eardrums. Or maybe it was a piercing, high-pitched ultrasound whine. Whatever it was, the relentless ringing was an absolute masterpiece of pure irritation.
“Good morning, CounselorJeus…”
“Shut up, you miare (jerk)!” Jeus slugged the orichalcum (local metal) sphere.
“Look, mister, you’re human and all, but don’t forget that besides RAM, an android has a hard drive.” The levitating android’s glow shifted to red.
“Yeah, yeah, you soulless orichalcum ball. This whole scare tactic is hardwired into your programming. Ooh, I’m shaking in my boots. Try breaking out of your code first,” Jeusreplied, rubbing his hand. “kynopes (сurse you), that actually hurt, though. My hand’s throbbing because of your thick robot skull.”
“Excellent! That means we’re even! And the conflict is resolved.” The sphere’s light turned green.
“You soulless piece of kopro (human waste), are we there yet?” Jeus asked, trying to swat it with his other hand.
“Synchronizing with cloud data. Connecting to satellites,” the android replied.
Jeus let out a frustrated sigh. In reality, this “marvel of science,” according to the marketing hype, was completely crippled without a network connection. One query outside the coverage area, and poof—so much for your “offline assistant.” Now this AI assistant would keep syncing indefinitely to answer a simple question. Jeus decided to close his eyes and shut the world out—going on mute just like the android. No one would bother him now. Then he felt a jolt. Someone in the adjacent compartment started making a racket. Another jolt, followed by a wild shriek.
He forced himself up from his pod, only to drop instantly to his knees and then hit the floor face-first with a loud thud. Hardly surprising, given that his head was completely empty and his body felt like dead weight, his muscles replaced by damp, frayed strings. It was the textbook aftermath of a long-haul space flight—the body put through stasis, the muscles and thoughts still struggling to reboot.
“Good morning, Jeusy,” a voice called out from his co-counselor’s pod.
“Morning, Hera. You awake too?” Jeus asked into the floorboards.
“Not quite yet... My body hasn’t absorbed the solution just now. But look at you, silly, always rushing into things.”
“I’ll manage on my own.”
Beyond the doors, the screams continued, accompanied by a strange vibration. Then came a frantic drumming against the walls, as if some predator were trying to break through.
“I think we need to move while we’re still breathing,” Jeus said.
“Jeus, I’m scared of them,” Hera said.
“Don’t be.It’s not my first Labour.”
At first, he crawled, wriggling his whole body, but as strength trickled back into his muscles, his movements grew steadier. Finally, he managed to pull himself up and shuffle to the main compartment door—the source of all the chaos.
A furious racket echoed from within, sounding exactly like maximum-security inmates were waiting on the other side—which wasn’t too far from the truth. This spot had once held dangerous criminals; perhaps this very ship had transported them here. Maybe the vessel was steeped in the spirit of rapists, thieves, and political dissidents. Now, as he opened the compartment door, leaning against the doorjamb like a dying hero summoning his last remaining charge, Jeus had to draw in a deep breath and bark out the verbal trigger designed to pacify a riot:
“Eight! Nine!”
“Eight! Nine!” a chorus of children echoed back, mimicking ridiculous hand gestures.
That stupid combination of numbers managed to halt the kids’ total anarchy. Having likely woken up before the counselors, they had already adapted, recovered, and started tearing everything apart in their path. Fueled by pure excess energy, of course. That was why Jeus tried to get to his feet as fast as possible and open the door for them before the head counselor spotted this horror show on the security cameras.
Holding kids under a sort of trance, repeating the words and motions, he made his way to the coveted button near the exit. Just one press and the outside doors slid open. Finally the kids rushed out onto the planet’s surface, only to instantly clutch their necks and stomachs on the ground. Meanwhile, Jeus completely lost it, cracking up. He thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle. This planet had a completely different atmospheric composition, featuring ultra-pure oxygen. It wasn’t lethal, of course, but it hit your lungs hard for the very first time.
The field trip on the new planet had officially begun.
