THE JOINING: The Cycle of the Shards Book One
Chapter 23

The door closed behind Critock quietly as he pushed it, and he slumped against it, placing his head back against the wood and closed his eyes. Of all the complications he had thought he would encounter on this quest, almost nothing he had experienced today was on his list. Family complications, issues with children barely out of puberty with no idea to handle themselves, and even girl troubles. It was enough to almost make him wish for another pirate attack, at least that was something he was used to handling! There was silence around him in the room, and only the soft sound of the television news program, now onto some kind of sporting event, invaded his privacy. At least for a moment, before he opened his eyes, and saw a familiar wisp shape slide in front of him.

“And just where the hell have you been?” Critock closed his eyes, not really wanting an answer.

“You wanted me out of there so you could tend to your girlfriend, remember? I assumed you would’ve been back a lot sooner, unless you were checking to see if all your parts matched up.”

Critock only slightly opened his eyes, giving Tomkari a look that made very clear what he thought of any inference of romanticism or worse between himself and Shanna. “Don’t. The important thing is, she’s on board.”

“On board with what?” The wisp followed as Critock crossed the room, collapsing face first onto Kyle’s bed, which was a lot more comfortable than he thought it would be. At least something was advanced on this rock, he thought, as Tomkari continued. “We don’t even know what we’re doing! We’ve been here an entire day, and all we’ve done is get rid of one space pirate!”

“Probably the only pirate that’s ever been on this world, don’t forget. That’s got to count for something.” Critock’s voice was muffled from the comforter on the bed, but he wasn’t willing to move, amazed at how tired he felt. Marconians get fatigued just like any species, but this was something more. He tried to shake it off, and focused on Tom. “Besides, we do have a plan. We get into the school tomorrow morning.”

Tomkari tried to cut him off. “TOMORROW?”

Critock pushed himself up, and spun around on the bed, sitting on the edge and facing the wisp. “Yes, tomorrow. We can’t just break into the school without arousing too much suspicion, or worse. There’s too much going on as it is, if Pt’ron thinks something’s up, we won’t replace him until we’re all ash.”

Tomkari started flying back and forth in a pacing formation. “For the love of Kun, Critock, we’re cutting this awfully close. Those missiles...”

“Those missiles will leave at around the time I’ll be leaving the house tomorrow. If nothing stops them, they’ll hit a little over an hour after lunch. We’ll replace out who he is, and where the Shards are, right before then. No other way to do it that doesn’t involve scaring him off.”

A sighing noise came from the wisp, who stopped moving. “An hour, huh? You’re catching onto the lingo pretty well for one day on the ground.”

“Something to be said for language and thought immersion.” A wave of tiredness crossed across Critock, and he laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and the odd designs from the patterns the lights and drywall made.

Tom floated above him. “Uh, everything okay?”

“Yeah, just...tired. It’s been a long day, and I don’t think human bodies are cut out for this kind of constant motion. And...Had a conversation with the kid’s father.”

“Oh boy, was hoping that wouldn’t happen.” Tom floated down and rested on the bedspread next to Critock. “How’d that go?”

“Well, he’s still in the dark of what’s going on, but he knows something is.”

“Get caught in one of your rants again, did you?”

“Hey!” He propped himself up on an elbow to look at the white wisp. “I’m surrounded by a sea of relative stupidity. I can’t help myself.” Shaking his head, he lay back down. “This kid has a lot of issues, Tomk. Mother leaving, father gone all the time. Lot of anger in here. Me showing up hasn’t helped matters, either.”

“Have you tried relating to him?”

Without looking at the wisp, Critock narrowed his eyes. “In what way?”

“I mean, your family isn’t exactly a secret to the Qua’roti, I know...”

“We don’t need to talk about that, Tomk.”

“But...”

Critock’s tone changed quickly. Lower, and commanding, and for the first time Tomkari saw the side of the Marconian that once made him one of the most feared soldiers in the fleet. “We aren’t going to talk about my family. Got it?”

“Ok, ok, sorry.” The two were silent for a moment, before Critock began speaking.

“And it wouldn’t matter. He’s got one absentee parent, I’ve got two. My real family is the ones that took me in. Wanted me as far away from the military as possible, but I went running to them like a fool. It’s not exactly something I can use to be on the same level as a fifteen-year-old boy with rage issues.”

“Maybe not.” Tomkari rose up slightly so Critock could see him out of the corner of his left eye. “But at least it would help the kid to understand you a bit, maybe it’ll get him to stop fighting you.”

“He made a run at me while I was talking to his father. Must have struck a real nerve. I don’t think anyone on this planet really talks to each other. Everyone’s got their own little walls built up. The failed cheerleader hates the real cheerleader. Shanna doesn’t talk to her mom. Kyle and his father. It’s a perfect place for Pt’ron.” He closed his eyes again. “You can even hide from yourself.”

Tom silently listened until Critock finished. “Is any of this going to be a problem?”

“No.” Critock sighed, and sat up, his voice changing from weak to determined. “It’s still a simple plan, and there’s nothing left to distract us. We go in, get the files, replace Pt’ron, and end this. And we go home, and we forget Earth even exists, just like the rest of the universe does. You good?”

The wisp bobbed up and down as though nodding. “Good.”

“Then with that...” Critock glanced around the room. Clothes everywhere, no sense of real organization, and a lamp nearby. “What do you know about human sleep routines?”

“Uh...Not too much. Not a whole lot to talk about, though. Few hours unconscious, twice as many as Marconians, wake up ready to go, or not, depending on the person.”

Critock yawned suddenly, and it surprised him before he could access what had happened. Tomkari appraised him strangely, having seen the Marconian open his mouth and suck in a breath for seemingly no reason, then looked around franticly. “Sorry, that just happened. Must be a side effect of tiredness.”

“Be careful!” Tomkari warned suddenly. “If you’re unconscious, and he makes a run...”

“I’m strong, Tom, don’t worry.” Tomkari wasn’t reassured that he had dropped the ‘t’ and was taking on a more Earthian sound. “I’ll catch him...doesn’t matter...” Critock’s voice slowed to a stop, and found his eyes closing without his permission. Tomkari waited for a moment as the Marconian’s breathing slowed, and other than a soft snore, there was no more sound from the boy.

“You know what, Critock, I’m worried.” Tom looked at his partner for a moment, and then settled down into a nearby chair. Wisps being as they are, did not need much sleep, so he would have to take the watch. He knew a small amount of human sleep endeavors, but knew nothing about what happened during the sleeping process, if it differed from the recovering of energy that the Marconians did, or if there was something else. Already he noted the eyelids moving behind Critock’s eyes, and wondered if he should wake him. In the end he decided to just monitor the situation. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt Critock or Kyle from getting whatever rest they needed, as tomorrow was going to be a very big day.

Suddenly there was a familiar battlefield. With nothing to suggest how or why, soldiers of the Marconian empire, hailing from a thousand different worlds, waged bloody, savage war on the beings of the Sykar Continuum, themselves as unique and numerous as the stars in a nighttime sky. With laser rifles and more immediate devices of destruction, the two armies advanced on each other and clashed, blending together until any onlookers, should they survive, would not be able to tell one side from the other.

Far above, dozens of ships both plentiful and deadly soared above the sky, firing both at their equal numbers of adversaries and below at the ground and their enemy, if they could pick them out of the masses. They swung and swooped through the sky, some misjudging distance and slamming into the ground and the indiscriminate numbers below. And far above them, above the atmosphere and the ground and air wars, was the greater battles in space itself for control of the sector and the planet. Dozens of Capital and Turanga-class battleships danced a much slower dance with each other, firing volleys of large blue energy at one another in efforts to cut off each side’s reinforcements to the greater war below.

At stake was this unnamed, barely habitable planet, which until the war began was simply another large piece of space rock that would barely be worth the effort to claim for any empire’s own. But now it was a strategic piece of a larger plan: An assault on the Continuum’s home planet, and possibly finally an end to this long war. The necessary subspace point and the strategic location to build and launch more warships were imperative to both sides of the conflict and neither side was willing to give up an inch.

It was here that Critock found himself without preamble. It was a place he had been before, of course. This battle would eventually be hard won by the Marconians, though with heavy losses. He walked through the battle as though in a daze, lost in memory. He stared at his fellow soldiers as they fought with honor, many dying for that same honor, and remembered that when this battle ended, the Imperial Warship ‘Tri-Cyrellian’ would launch, and carry himself, Bakkara, and…

“The war’s here, Critock! Get your mind in it!” Pt’ron. His enemy of a thousand cycles cut through the Continuum soldiers easily, and all thought of how and why left Critock’s mind, replaced with a white hot anger. Whatever madness had brought him back to this place in time, it had given him a gift. He could stop all of this before it happened! Every other being on the battlefield disappeared from thought as he ran, and then sprinted, towards the other Marconian, as Pt’ron whooped and swung his gun in an upward arc, catching the chin of an adversary and sending them flying into the air. He moved the gun around in a regular firing position, and let loose a volley of blue shots, right as Critock’s body struck his.

The pair flew back with some force, and Pt’ron’s body took the bulk of the blow and they both grunted as they struck the ground, Critock landing on top of him.

“Critock, what the…” Pt’ron was cut off as his general began to rain a series of blows down upon the unfortunate and unexpecting soldier. In the beginning he was still attempting to get words out, but as his face became more and more bloody he stopped trying, and put all his energy into trying to force his unstoppable friend off of him.

Critock’s mind was lost in rage. He wasn’t going to stop until Pt’ron stopped resisting, and stopped moving altogether. He didn’t even realize he was yelling, and it didn’t matter. This was right. This was just. Bakkara would live. The war would end. Earth would be saved.

Suddenly he was hit by a force on his right, and was forced to cease his pummeling as he fell hard from the impact. As he hit the ground he instinctively rolled and moved to his feet, ready to take down this new attacker quickly so he could finish the job with Pt’ron. His eyes focused, and he suddenly found it very difficult to do anything but stare.

“Critock, Stop!” If there was such a thing as perfect beauty in the universe, Critock would swear that it existed right then as he looked upon a vision he had not witnessed in a thousand cycles. A perfect form with long blonde hair and a streak of green through it that extended from the middle all the way down to the small of her back. Hard emerald eyes, and the reddest of lips. The face was angry and confused right now, but it did not matter, Bakkara was the most beautiful thing in the universe right now no matter what expression she wore.

“Bakkara, he…He’s going to…” He couldn’t speak. After so long apart, there was no way to get anything out. All the words that he had thought for cycles combined into a unspeakable soup that met at the start of his throat and then stopped, resulting in a rash of uncharacteristic stumbling. Her eyes turned to fear as he approached her, but not fear at what he would do to her, she knew that he was incapable of doing anything like that. It was a fear as to what was happening with Critock himself.

“Bakkara…” He reached up, and tried to stroke her cheek, to touch her one more time. The instant his hand touched her skin, her face vanished in a puff of peach flesh colored smoke, and almost immediately followed by the rest of her body. His eyes widened in shock as he witnessed Pt’ron, the soldiers, the entire war and planet itself suddenly fly away like so much dust, and after that instant there was only darkness. But there was still ground beneath his feet, and he realized now where he truly was. The Mandragora’s lair.

He remembered now. It had been cycles of searching, so many fights, so much pain, but he had tracked down the one person in all the universe who you did not go looking for. The Qua’roti thought it was the last shard that convinced him to likely throw his life away instead of living in the punishment mines of Ky’ro’ka, but no. Pt’ron had engineered the war, but the Mandragora had engineered Pt’ron, and she had much to answer for.

Beyond that even, there was their history. There were many questions for the evil queen of the Shards, who collected and kept them as decorations of her power even as she ran the vast underworld of the Universe. Critock knew her as someone else though, long before she took this crown for herself. He willed his legs to move as the Sword of Kon slid open in his hands, and he moved forward in the makeshift cave, dimly lit with unknown sources of purple light. He could see in his peripheral vision the insane cult members that the Mandragora kept with her, harmless members of countless races hidden under black hoods, chanting a language long-since lost to this time.

Critock stopped as he reached a series of stone steps, and looked up upon the figures that stood at the top. One was a woman, in loose, non-descript black clothing that flowed around her, holding a scepter with a pure black coal staff and a large rounded top, meticulously covered with Shards. The other was a man, slightly older than Critock himself, with completely white, short hair. His right hand seemed to have small red shards growing out of it, and from the shards flowed blue streaks of electricity. The electricity flowed up to the man’s eyes, covered by a black cloth. He leered at Critock with a familiarity built on intense hatred.

Critock paid no mind to the white haired man, he had had his battles with him, and this was not the time for a reconciliation. Instead it was the woman that he focused his gaze upon. The Mandragora, the name whispered in secret across the galaxies, the bedtime story told to scare your children to sleep. The Goddess holding the absolute powers of the universe and unwilling to share or give them up. Critock put one leg on the first step and stared at her as he addressed her.

“Mother.”

Suddenly everything changed again. The Mandragora, the man, the cave itself all went to dust and reformed, and Critock was forced to a chair. His vision unfocused and he rubbed his eyes, and then everything became clear. It was the Tri-Cyrellian, cycles after the battle on the forgotten planet with his enemy and his love. And it was diving through the atmosphere of yet another planet, similarly desolate but at least inhabited. It was, after all, the unassuming home planet of the Sykar Continuum.

Instinctively, Critock opened the controls on the front panel, but he realized as soon as he did so that there was no hope. The panels were unresponsive, as he expected. The sabotage was complete and total. This ship was never going to reach it’s target, let alone deliver it’s deadly payload that would end this war once and for all, destroying the home base of the Continuum and it’s secretive and unknown leader along with it.

He tried to think quickly, about some way out of this. But in front of his mind, even before his imminent demise, was that who could have done this? Almost nobody knew about this mission. He designed this plan himself. A small battleship, flying traitorous colors and broadcasting the enemy codes, was the perfect cover to approach the planet. Once past the minefields and the hundreds of turret defenses and battleships on constant high alert, dropping a series of low-yield warheads directly on the capital base would be an incredible blow to their morale, and it would only be a matter of time before there was a call for surrender. It wasn’t something that he brought before the hierarchy, there was no time. The window for this would close all too quickly, and they would worship him after.

But they knew. Damnit! How could they have known! Halfway beyond the turrets, they suddenly swung around and fired in unison. It was a miracle that as many missed as they did, but it was enough to send the ship spiraling down to the surface. The number of people who knew about this plan could be counted on one hand! He came up with it, Bakkara begged to come along, and…

“…No.” He said to himself. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him. He was with them! He had recovered! He couldn’t be with them! But there was no other way. Pt’ron had begged off of this mission before Bakkara had even volunteered. Unless he had told someone…But he did, didn’t he? He told his friends on the other side. All this time, setting up Critock to die, and deal a blow to the Empire, extending this endless war who knows how much longer. But not just Critock. He suddenly jumped out of his control chair and began to run towards the back of the vessel.

“Bakkara!” They were both lost. He knew that. But he had to see her. To hold her. Maybe there was a way one of them could survive. There had to be a working escape pod on this ship, didn’t there? And if there was, it had to be towards rear engineering, where Bakkara had gone right after the ship was struck to try and restore power to the hydraulics. “Bakkara!” He screamed her name as he ran at full speed, begging fate to allow this craft to defy gravity and fall that much slower, to allow him time to save her. Just her.

He reached the hallway in time to see her, and he yelled one more time, his throat cracking as he did so from the heat caused by nearby fires that had sprung up with the initial turret barrage. She heard him just the same, as she stood near the doorway to the engineering bay, holding on to a few strings of wire, trying desperately to stretch them to another conduit. She turned her face, standing still, and across the distance their eyes met.

Just as their gazes crossed, the ship rocked with another blast. The two lovers fell to the floor. Critock cursed, realizing that it wasn’t enough for Pt’ron to blast them out of the sky with the turrets, he had to finish the job with a squadron? He could hear the peppering of the hull by laser fire, and there was another explosion, followed by a series of crunching sounds. Halfway through the metal grated hall separating Critock from Bakkara, a crack grew across the ceiling, with small yellow and orange explosions rippling across it. The same happened across the floor. Critock watched the cracks with a sudden horrifying realization, and looked up at Bakkara. One last time.

With a sudden lurch as their eyes met, the engineering bay as well as the back half of the Tri-Cyrellian cleanly separated off. Isolated from the secondary thrusters, it began to pitch forward. That was the last time Critock was able to see Bakkara, her perfect form staring back at him, spiraling away into the distance, before the overloaded engines could no longer hold back the inevitable, and exploded into a million bright lights.

The lights filled Critock’s vision, and soon faded to dust, and then as quickly as the previous visions had appeared, so too did a new one, but unlike the sharp memories that he had just experienced, this one was different. It was the school, the same one he had arrived at just a few precious hours ago. But it was different. Meaner, somehow. Foreboding and ugly. He stood outside of it and looked up, suddenly filled with a fear that almost paralyzed him, but with no explanation.

Without movement suddenly he was inside the school, in the middle of the main hall, just inside the entrance. There were several other students there, and in fact it seemed the whole school was there, stretching out into the hallways and the central stairways leading up the second floor. But instead of constantly being in motion as Critock had experienced, they were all standing still, and looking right at him.

He felt shame. Embarrassment, but again he could not identify the source. He could not move, and he could not figure out what they all wanted from him. None of them said anything, but instead slowly began parting into two parallel groups, forming a lane in the middle. A lane that Shanna Ewing in a cheerleader outfit began walking up. The outfit seemed a bit more risqué than the average outfit, as it exposed a midriff, and the skirt seemed much shorter than would be allowed on any regular school day. She came up to him and gave him a look that could only be described as sultry, and Critock was hit with another blast of fear. That look wasn’t for him! Why was she doing this! Why were any of them there!

Then, the unexpected happened once again. She started laughing. A pointed, mocking laugh, and it was directly at him. The rest of the assembled students began laughing as well, some of them pointing and making faces. There was no joke to be heard, in fact it seemed that he himself was the joke.

The laughing went on for what felt like forever, and it seemed to get louder and more shrill the longer it went. He attempted to put his hands over his ears, but it could not block out the sound, which seemed to only grow in volume to compensate.

Just as the laughing became unbearable, it stopped. Everything stopped, in fact and into the same clouds of dust that everything had dissipated into before. Everything was darkness again for an instant, and then a slight white illumination came from the invisible floor that Critock stood upon. With the darkness came the recovery of his memory, and with that all of the feelings and emotions felt in the dreams came crashing down upon him. Pt’ron. The Mandragora. Bakkara. Even the embarrassment from the students played a role. Finally, he could not take it any longer, and Critock screamed a loud, bellowing yell into the darkness. The memories remained, but they somehow were more bearable now.

“They’re called dreams.” Critock was startled by the sudden voice and spun around, only to be met with Kyle. The boy walked out of the darkness until he was fully illuminated, then stood still. For the first time since he had come out of the visions, Critock looked down, and realized he was in his own clothes, and his own body.

“What was that? How are you here?” Critock looked back up at Kyle, and his brow furrowed.

“You’re the one that needs to answer that, Critock.” He stated his name in a sort of mocking tone. “You showed up and took over my life. It was bad enough I don’t have any control, but now Shanna? My father?”

“We’ve been over this.” Critock stood his ground as Kyle began walking towards him. “You jumped in my way. I couldn’t stop. We joined. And I can’t leave until the job is done. You’ve seen my mind, I haven’t blocked you from anything.”

“I’ve seen. You’ve had a lot of nightmares in your life, haven’t you?” Kyle turned and began walking around the Marconian.

“I don’t know what a nightmare is. There are things that you’ll be left with. Knowledge. You can be a king here. But you have to let me do my job.”

Kyle ignored the attempts by Critock to make what had happened sound appealing. “A nightmare is what you’ve just had. A whole lot of them. Your mom? Your intended?”

Critock closed his eyes, ignoring the rush of emotion from the mere mention of his past. “I’ve never had anything like that before.”

Kyle stopped in front of him, disbelieving. “Marconians don’t dream?”

Critock nodded. “You can see anything about me. Anything I know about Marconians or a hundred other races, it’s yours. Military tactics. Inventions that’ll make you richer than anyone on this planet.”

“I don’t care about that!” Kyle moved straight in front of Critock’s face, and Critock resisted taking a step back, hoping that the boy would be able to get whatever this was out of his system. “You’re dragging her into this!”

“I don’t have a choice!” Critock’s voice went louder, and he punctuated each word. “Do you want her to die? Do you want everyone to die?”

“Do you?” Kyle countered. “You messed this up thousands of years ago, then want a few more bodies to go on your pile?” Critock began to seethe as Kyle continued. “I’ve seen what you’ve seen, I’ve seen your wars. How many people have you killed? And how many are you willing to let die for your screw-ups? Are you going to sacrifice Shanna too for your damn revenge?”

“NO!” Critock yelled, and attempted to grab the boy’s collar. His hands moved right through Kyle’s body, as though he weren’t really there. If it bothered Kyle, he didn’t show it.

“Then what?” The boy turned and walked away from him. “You dodged Shanna’s question, I heard the whole thing. Why should she or anyone of us throw ourselves down just so you can walk across us?”

“Because it’s the only way!” Critock yelled out. “The missiles launch in a few hours. If they hit you’re all dead. I can’t help anything that’s happened but I can stop it now for good!”

“And leave a trail of dead in your wake. You can’t even guarantee I’ll be fine when you finally get the hell out of my body, can you?” Critock was silent. “So me and Shanna. Probably Tom too. Claire? Mr. Phelps? Daniel? You think we’re all a bunch of damn primitives, just how far are you going to let this go?”

Critock shook his head, and spoke quietly. “I remember them all.” Kyle stopped walking. “You can look in my mind, you can see for yourself. Every soldier on both side, the ones that I led and the ones that I pulled the trigger on myself. Every battle I planned. Everything wrong and evil and dark I’ve ever been forced to do for the greater good I remember! I don’t want any more bodies, Kyle. I don’t want yours, I don’t want Shanna’s, I’ve tried like hell to come up with another way but there isn’t anything that keeps Pt’ron from either taking over the world or the missiles destroying it. You’ve been paying attention, do you have any better ideas?”

Kyle remained silent. “I don’t want anything to happen to any of you. I never did. I’m here to stop an apocalypse you can’t imagine. I know it’s all my damn fault. It’s why they came to me in the first place, and why I volunteered. If I can do anything about it, I won’t let anything happen to Shanna. Or anyone else. And I won’t spend a second longer in your life than I need to. But I need full access to your mind to make this happen, I can’t be fighting with you any more. Any piece of information I have about that school and Earth I need to see, no matter how private you think it is. I don’t need an enemy, I need a partner. For Shanna’s sake, if nothing else.”

Kyle didn’t say anything for a moment, and then asked, loudly. “You get what you need. And you’ll leave?”

“Trust me, Kyle, I don’t want to be here one more second than you want me to be.”

Kyle thought for a moment. “Fine.” He walked up to Critock and extended his hand. Tentatively, Critock raised his. After a moment, Kyle clasped Critock’s hand, and shook. “It’s a deal.” The two released hands and Kyle began to walk away, but stopped before he was completely out of sight. “You never answered Shanna’s question. You did cause all this. If you had to, would you sacrifice yourself for Earth? For me? For Shanna?”

“I won’t have to.”

Kyle nodded. “Right. That’s not an answer.” He didn’t wait for Critock’s response, instead walking backwards into the darkness. After a moment, the illumination faded, and Critock was left in the dark. A beat passed, and then he didn’t think anything else.