Center of the Dark

By S.L. Broussard

What made Rigel so important to Tutami? As her old science colleague Siadon and his fellow Mechabots struggle to decipher her cryptic messages about an unknown threat called the Goryu, that question continues to haunt them - especially when Rigel himself, on the run from his former Illusicon comrades, draws both factions to the brink of renewed war. But as Rigel retraces Tutami's path across the galaxy, he's forced to draw upon every last kilobyte of his resourceful cunning to escape her old nemeses. Meanwhile, the Illusicons and Mechabots alike soon learn the price of unheeded warnings as they face terrifying threats emerging both from the shadowed fringes of the galaxy - and within their own ranks. The epic Metashiftors saga continues in this exhilarating third installment, where bitter truths, ruthless vengeance and more are found at the CENTER OF THE DARK!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781716192845

Book preview

Pronunciation Guide for Names

            Science-fiction delights in uniquely original names for characters and places, but few bother to explain how these unique names should be pronounced. Refer to this handy guide while reading this story or discussing it with friends.

Vulcanus - vəl-CAN-əs

Illusicon - il-LOO-si-cahn

Tutami -  too-TAH-mee

Rigel - REE-gəl  (with a hard ‘g’, not a ‘j’)

Rosetau - ROH-zə-T-OW (as in ‘ouch’)

Tethys - TETH -iss (with a soft ‘th’ as in ‘think’)

Axion - AKS-ee-ahn

Procyon - pro-SIGH-ahn

Aldebaran – ALL-də-BARE-ən

Siadon - see-AD-ən

Apophon – uh-POFF-on

Dubhe - DOO-bhay  (also originally an Arabic star name, like Rigel and Merak)

Goryu – GOH-reeyoo

Insitor – IN-si-TOHR

Quetzicon - KWET-zi-cahn

Arcadion - ar-CAY-dee-ən

Zoser - ZOH-sər

Nephthys - NEFF-tis

Cygnus – SIG-nəs

Bak-Hor - BACK-ḣohr (with a hard ‘h’)

Alesian (i.e., from Alesion) - uh-LEE-zee-ən

Parallaxian - PAIR-uh-LAKS-ee-ən

niket nehet - NEE-ket  ne-HET

Altinos - ALL-ti-nohs

Onuris – OH-noo-ris

Merak - MAY-ræk

Vellusian - vel-LOOZ-ee-ən

Ugarian - yoo-GARE-ee- ən

Hurrian - HOOR-ee- ən

hibi - HEE-bee

nikek - ni-KEK

Maizahk - MY-zahk

Aadi Nizan Illusiconu - AAH-dee nee-ZAHN il-LOO-si-CAH-noo

Archimedus – AR-kə-MEE-dəs

Sais – SAY-S

Helix Sophion - HEE-liks so-FEE- ən

Mursili – mər-SIL-ee

Hamadaru – HAH-mah-DAH-roo

Adad – AH-dahd

Tut LaReine - tət lə-RAIN

Amphitryon - ÆM-fi-TRY-ahn

Chapter One - Totality

Eclipse emerged from the darkened cocoon of the automated repair unit into a harsh glare of unfiltered overhead LED lamps. Brackets flipped away from his arms, legs and head and receded back into the machining table on which he lay. Consciousness slowly returned to him. His ruby optical sensors glowed, he squinted hard at the overhead lights blazing back at him, then saw shadows cluster over him. Steadily those shadows clarified into his fellow Trackers watching him with etched, worried faces.

Did it work?

Is he repaired? Pulsar and Dementus questioned each other rhetorically.

Say something, pack mate, Dredclaw finally addressed their comrade directly.

I... he groaned quietly. I function... His voice sounded different, strained.

With slow, uncertain movements, Eclipse sat up. His teammates - ‘pack mates’, they preferred to think of themselves - watched anxiously. Beyond their huddle, their superior officers Castigus and Vulcanus observed with more aloof interest. They stood next to Modulus, who directed his own attention to the freestanding computer station that controlled the repair unit. Technical data spilled across its screen, reporting in minute detail what procedures the machine had performed on Eclipse and how efficiently it had done them.

Finally, Modulus rumbled to himself. His unusually emphatic tone caught Vulcanus’ interest, and he peered over his angular shoulder at his fellow officer.

‘Finally’ what?

Modulus tapped an indigo finger on the screen. Unit operating as programmed. Never happened on Synthos.

Hmm, Vulcanus acknowledged flatly, arms folded. Let that be a lesson in persistence, then.

About time something went in our favor, grumbled Castigus, the Tracker leader.

By this time Eclipse had swung his feet off the machining bed, preparing to stand. Vulcanus, Castigus and Modulus looked on with what could best be termed ‘professional interest’: the Illusicon armada would need this field test to prove successful. Future casualties would depend upon it.

Only Dredclaw and Dementus, his comrades standing to either side of him, could see Eclipse’s optics flicker in an erratic fit as he got to his feet.

Are you functioning properly, pack mate? asked Dredclaw.

Eclipse brought up his steel-blue and cobalt-colored hands, regarding them as if they didn’t belong on his body. Finally he met Dredclaw’s questioning gaze with a leer.

Hmph! If you can call it that.

At least he was talking! Never mind his cryptic answer. Relieved, his fellow Trackers tapped his wings or chucked his shoulder playfully.

Ah, you had us going there, you reprobate, Dredclaw teased.

Eclipse shrugged them away. Where... he began, his voice still sounding dry. Where is...Tutami?

His comrades stopped cold.

Eclipse, what are you talking about?!

He met Dredclaw’s reproving gaze with frightening intensity. Did I stutter, ‘reprobate’? Where is she?

Dementus fairly shrieked. It’s the Curse, I tell you!

The Trackers might have devolved into panic at that moment had Vulcanus not responded abruptly with glancing punches across both Eclipse and Dementus’ heads in quick succession.

That’s enough, you superstitious fools! he bellowed over their grunts of pain. The two reeled as he continued. Clearly Eclipse isn’t fully recovered yet. Stand down to your quarters until 07:00 tomorrow - he leveled a stern gaze on Eclipse - "that’s an order, Tracker. The rest of you, back to your regular duties, now."

They answered with a disjointed chorus of Y-yes, Commander Vulcanus!, followed by quick salutes and scurrying out of the repair bay. Except for Eclipse. Still holding his head, he nodded calmly and saluted. "Yes, sir," he fairly purred, then turned on his heel and calmly left the room.

Vulcanus watched him leave, his hooded vermilion optics narrowed and his grey and violet arms re-folded.

Huh! Think he’ll snap out of it? Castigus asked skeptically.

"If he doesn’t, I will snap it out of him," came Vulcanus’ terse reply.

* * *

Until a few stellar-months ago, the barracks corridor down which Eclipse walked was just one long, empty lava tube amidst a network of such caves embedded at the base of an extinct volcano on the isolated planet of Rosetau. Their repair bay had begun life as a similar volcanic cave. In the interest of conserving what metal resources they’d brought with them from their home world of Synthos, they left much of the barracks hallway and rooms in a natural state: grey and olive-colored basalt, hewn smooth along the floors but still marked with ridges along the walls and solidified lavacicles on the ceilings. Only the front walls and doors to each room were made of Synthonian metal. Some of that metal had been cast from the smelted remains of their fallen comrades, shortly before their final retreat out of Tethys Bastion.

Eclipse paused at his door, hand poised over the keypad. Calling forth a numerical combination that he previously knew by rote, he keyed in his access code and entered his personal quarters.

Inside, he sank to his knees and moaned.

He pitched forward and landed on his hands - those unfamiliar hands tipped with short, curved talons that shouldn’t belong there - and cried out with that dry, breathy voice which his comrades would not recognize.

"What...happened?! Where am I? Who am I?! Tell me...!!!"

His optics flickered in a furious storm as he searched desperately through his memory banks for a specific moment in time, a solid anchor in what otherwise roiled as an ocean of confusion. How long had it been? How much time had passed since the Installation Ceremony?

A number finally emerged: five stellar months. Visions followed: hurtling toward the center of the open-air Conquerors’ Hall, fellow Trackers and Vulcanus around him in their respective fighter craft modes, then shifting in unison to land in robot forms amongst a startled crowd of other Illusicons. Eclipse looked around himself, seeing faces he didn’t quite recognize, then looked up to the top of a staired dais to see a winged figure clad in ceremonial silk and crown: Rigel.

Then Rigel remembered looking down at this being called ‘Eclipse’.

"Intruders! he recalled screaming, You dare interrupt my Installation Ceremony?!"

His point of view switched back to Eclipse, who looked on as his superior officer - the one that just punched him in the repair bay, what was his name? Vulcanus, yes - he stepped forward with their leader. Eclipse watched them from behind with eager admiration. Then Rigel remembered seeing their leader’s face as he spoke, his baritenor voice full of contempt.

Your ‘Installation Ceremony’? Don’t be absurd.

Rigel had never seen that face before. But those narrow scarlet optics, shaded by a charcoal-colored brow ridge, bore a resemblance to the eyes of his former, vanquished leader Decatron. The likelihood of a connection seemed ridiculous, but...?

"That can’t be you, can it, Decatron?"

On hands and knees, on the floor of his private quarters on Rosetau, Eclipse’s fuel pump began to race.

Rigel watched numbly through Eclipse’s eyes and memories as this imposing figure, clearly not Decatron, shifted down into a field artillery piece and fired at him. Not that he could remember seeing anything from his own vantage point besides a blinding flash of discharge. But the wall of pain and panic that crashed upon him threatened to obliterate his entire being. Rigel knew at that instant that he had only one chance, one way out.

His Installation as Supreme Illusicon Commander was an accomplishment long in coming - stellar centuries, in fact. Rigel fully intended to savor every second of it. Moments before leaving his own private quarters to preside over the ceremony, purple silk cascading from his shoulders and a custom ruby-and-gold inlaid crown tucked in the crook of one arm, he initiated a recording program from his personal computer. It would record everything he saw, heard and felt via a wireless connection with his own processors. In effect, Rigel’s brain began transmitting directly into his computer. Sure, his fellow Illusicons would’ve mocked the idea as abject vanity; but they hadn’t worked so long and hard for something they wanted, had they?

Wracked by a lethal chain reaction started by that cannon blast, his transmission became a back door - an exit. Rigel sought it with his entire mind, even as his body shattered around him. He felt himself rushing down a lightless, formless conduit, away from the ceremony, away from his attacker, away from everything. He came to rest...where? For how long?

Within his own computer, of course. What others might call narcissism, Rigel recognized as fortunate prescience. But how did he get out of his computer? No one else could access his quarters, not even Decatron. Rigel installed the security measures - including explosive charges as an absolute failsafe - himself. No one else knew the proper access code for his quarters...

Except for Tutami.

She’d left a long time ago, over an unfortunate misunderstanding. If she would have just given him a chance, she surely would have come to appreciate his reasons; Tutami was the smartest mechanism Rigel knew, besides himself. To be sure, he spent a long time angry at her for leaving. But if she ever came back, ever found her way home, Rigel’s door would still open for her.

Tutami did come back. She had to have, because Rigel not only felt himself suddenly free to search through the entire system of networks for Tethys Bastion, he even found her in them. He wiped out her prior records so there would be no reference to her having deserted - something he planned to do as leader, anyway - and then he upgraded her physical specifications so they would reflect his own upgrades. He accomplished that when he found her within the private space of the - of course, the automated repair prototype in Bay Five! Rigel found Tutami’s consciousness connected to it as her body was being upgraded. By downloading himself into the machine, he could at last speak to her again, even hold her...as best he could without a true body, anyway.

Anyone else venturing to seek repairs within the automated unit would not have found themselves so fortunate. This fellow named ‘Eclipse’ had just discovered that the hard way.

But where was Tutami now? If ever Rigel needed an ally, someone he could absolutely trust to help him reverse his current...predicament, it would be her. Much as he hated to admit it, without her intervention he would still be stuck in limbo as just an especially large file on his own hard drive.

For some reason, his host Eclipse seemed reluctant to share that information.

Where is she?! Rigel hissed, effectively at himself. "Answer me!"

Rigel had taken possession of Eclipse’s body, but the Tracker could still muster some measure of resistance. It manifested as moments of inability to find a thought, or recall bits of information; like a bout of deliberate absent-mindedness.

You can’t hide from me, Rigel growled. I’m far smarter than you ever thought of being!

Suddenly he could see Conquerors’ Hall again. He vaguely sensed a passage of time from when last he, and Eclipse, were there. How long? Just over a stellar month, his host told him. He saw the other Trackers, their group leader named Castigus, Vulcanus, even Modulus and the remaining Raptors, and that same leader with those threatening eyes. He could feel Eclipse look toward his master with adulation bordering on what must be hero-worship. Rigel found the concept utterly disgusting.

Then he saw her.

From the far end of the Hall, Tutami stepped forward, in all of her upgraded glory.

The Illusicon leader - no, usurper!, Rigel countered - pointed toward her accusingly. Just what do you think you’re doing, calling an assembly without my approval?!

She continued her advance, but Rigel could recognize the hesitation in her steps. He knew her well enough to tell she was nervous. M-mighty Teratron, it was necessary. There is...a traitor in the ranks who must be uncovered.

Tutami had the Hall’s rapt attention. They weren’t even this attentive for me! Rigel observed. Then the usurper, whom she addressed as ‘Teratron’, reacted indignantly.

"What? Another traitor!? Tutami, tell me; who is this traitor?"

Watching through Eclipse’s memory, Rigel could feel the entire hall’s energy focus upon her. Even he found himself in suspense. What was she talking about? What ‘traitor’?

She stepped forward, balled her fists. Oh, no, Rigel thought. With her, that was never a good sign.

It is...someone loyal to Rigel.

The body of Eclipse the Tracker had straightened to his knees until that sentence. Under Rigel’s control, he crumpled to the floor again.

‘Someone loyal to Rigel.’ He knew exactly what she meant. Following provisions of Illusicon law, she was about to defend Rigel’s legitimacy as ruler by invoking him in a direct challenge against Teratron.

As Eclipse’s memories continued, Teratron threw his head back and laughed. Rigel could feel his own hatred rising against his host’s loyal attention.

To THAT cowardly usurper?!

No, the usurper is YOU! countered Rigel’s thoughts.

I disposed of him easily, Teratron boasted. Only because you caught me unawares! Rigel interjected. And I can certainly dispose of anyone else! continued Teratron. He swept a finger across the crowd, including Eclipse. You all exist to serve me - or die!

Rigel could feel his host’s sudden willingness to stand and even die for his leader, the only leader he knew, and it made the tactile receptors in his body plating crawl. You simpering sycophant! he mentally chastised. How dare you -

Then he saw Tutami launch herself at Teratron, claws bared.

DIE! she cried, raking across his face and knocking him to the ground.

Rigel was just as stunned as Eclipse. Here stood the same woman whose last words to him so long ago were that she refused to die in his ‘petty rebellion’, only now she pointed down at the Illusicon leader she’d just effectively challenged to a fight to the death.

"Rigel was a Raptor - one of us! And I won’t endorse his death with my silence!"

Even now, Eclipse remained confused. What does she mean?

It means she’s the only one of you with any real courage, you fool! Rigel shot back. She’s the only one with enough courage... Dual waves of gratitude and regret nearly swallowed him. Enough courage to defend me...

He could only watch helplessly as Eclipse’s memories continued to unfold and Tutami’s duel with Teratron commenced. Rigel had seen her fight before; he liked to think he taught her most of what she knew. But he never saw her move, or shoot, or dodge like this before. As a warrior, this was surely her finest hour. Too often, though, as Rigel had witnessed firsthand, a warrior’s finest hour was also their last.

She suddenly leaped up, shifted into her F-15 Silent Eagle form and rocketed skyward. Her departure bore an eerie familiarity. This time, Rigel hoped she stayed away. Oh, Tutami, be a coward, just this once. Save yourself!

But of course, she didn’t. Rigel couldn’t see, as Eclipse had ducked and hid, but a thundering fusillade of explosions announced that Tutami had just launched everything she had at Teratron, who’d taken his artillery cannon mode in the middle of the Hall’s floor. As the smoke cleared, Eclipse looked for his leader in hopes he’d survived. Rigel found himself looking for Tutami.

Incredibly, both opponents did survive. Teratron shifted back to robot form, cracks and pockmarks riddling his armor plating. How is that possible?! Rigel gaped. What manner of formidable adversary could take that much punishment and live, let alone continue to fight?

Yet Tutami stepped forward to meet him, her bearing a picture of resoluteness. Look at her go, Rigel marveled as she dodged and swung at Teratron. Then a sickening crunch as Teratron wrenched her arm backward and her cry of pain stabbed at Rigel’s senses. She rallied, driving her sharp silver knee guard deep into Teratron’s flank. While Eclipse recalled the move in horror and dismay, Rigel cheered her on. Go on, you can do it! Kill him!

Teratron brought his arm cannon up to Tutami’s midriff.

Rigel went numb. Thanks to his host’s unusually acute hearing, he caught Teratron’s verbal jab at his opponent.

Say hello to your beloved Rigel.

Teratron fired. Through Eclipse’s body, Rigel sank face-down onto the cold stone floor. He blocked out whatever happened next; he didn’t need to know what happened next.

Tutami was dead.

No...! he groaned vainly. Not my Tutami...!

Laying face-down on the floor of someone else’s room, inhabiting someone else’s body, having just watched someone else’s memory of his last true friend dying vainly to defend him, Rigel had both figuratively and literally hit rock-bottom.

But he still existed.

Sure, his physical body was gone, obliterated; but his consciousness, his sense of self and all the memories that chronicled his life, continued. Within his present host, he could say - and in fact, did speak aloud as he pulled himself off the floor and rose to his feet, clenching a fist:

I am Rigel. I still exist! And I shall have my revenge!

Chapter Two - Liabilities

Vulcanus made his way down a different stone corridor to attend to his last errand of the evening. He carried a tray holding six clear, square-shaped containers of liquifuel, sustenance of all robotic beings like himself. His brisk steps slowed, nearly faltering, as he came up to a heavily reinforced metal door.

An optical scanner, set at face-plate level next to said door, registered his features. Vulcanus waited.

Even back on Synthos, Lord Teratron had grown increasingly given to bouts of reclusion. Since coming to Rosetau, those bouts had become longer and more frequent. Ever the dutiful second-in-command, Vulcanus managed the Illusicons’ day-to-day operations in his master’s absence. But Vulcanus suspected that his leader was not adequately refueling during his ‘spells’; he would grow noticeably irritable before disappearing, only to emerge several days later still irritable and furthermore hungry. Bringing him these five measures of high-grade liquifuel, his adjutant hoped, would prevent a repeat performance. The sixth measure he included for himself in case - just in case - Lord Teratron felt sociable enough for an informal debriefing over fuel. Vulcanus still had yet to refuel himself today.

The door slowly slid open, revealing a dim interior beyond.

Teratron’s private quarters had also begun as a cave, but this underground chamber hosted impressive formations of stalactites and stalagmites deposited ages ago by acids brewed within the long-dead volcano. A floor-to-ceiling formation in the center of the room served to screen where Teratron actually powered down. It also served as a backdrop for an imposing dressed basalt throne, itself a smaller replica of the one built elsewhere in the Illusicons’ formal audience hall. It was in this replica throne that Lord Teratron sullenly reclined.

A shaft of light cut across the darkened floor leading up to the throne’s pedestal. Vulcanus followed it. As the door shut behind him, returning their surroundings to a dimmer state, he dropped to one knee in deep genuflection as he placed the tray on the ground in front of him, before Teratron’s steel-grey and obsidian feet. Had he brought incense and candles, Vulcanus might have resembled a priest presenting offerings to his enshrined god.

My Lord, I brought you a day’s measure. He kept his head lowered deferentially.

I don’t require it.

Vulcanus glanced up, momentarily confused, then dropped his head again. But mighty Teratron, it’s been a full day since we returned to port, surely you could use the fuel -

Just put it on the table, his leader cut off tersely.

Yes, my Lord.

Immediately adjacent to the throne’s right armrest stood a slim table made of brushed metal plate. Vulcanus cautiously rose to his feet and brought his offering to this table, setting it down so quietly that the vessels of liquifuel didn’t even clink. Doing so also brought him within his master’s easy reach. Vulcanus avoided making direct eye contact with him. His order thus carried out, he returned to the base of Teratron’s throne and stood at attention, gaze still respectfully lowered.

My Lord, how is your arm? Eclipse’s wound was not the only casualty to come of their recent expedition.

It’s been repaired.

D-do you wish to hear the day’s reports?

"No, Vulcanus, I do not."

His leader’s sudden vehemence made him uneasy. Memory of a near-fatal beating at Teratron’s hands still burned vivid in Vulcanus’ mind. Not wishing to provoke such anger again, he took a step backward.

As you wish, my Lord, I shall take my le -

Teratron rose quickly from his throne and started toward Vulcanus with a snarl.

Suddenly terrified, Vulcanus backed away, spilling apologies. No, no, forgive me, my Lord, that was presumptuous of me -

He didn’t realize how fast he walked backwards until solid rock wall stopped him. But Teratron did not stop. He clamped his hands onto his much-slimmer first officer’s shoulders - flashback to the last time he’d done so made Vulcanus cry out in fear - and threw his own body weight against him, pinning Vulcanus to the wall.

"That mission was a fiasco!" Teratron hissed. His scarlet optics flashed in anger, his face just inches from Vulcanus’.

His officer nodded demurely. W-we underestimated our target, Lord, I - I take full responsibility -

Teratron shoved himself against Vulcanus again. "And our supplies are low! Do you expect me to build an empire on scraps?!" Another shove for emphasis.

N-no, my Lord! We’ll make a new plan, we’ll - we’ll try again.

You’ll ‘try’, Vulcanus? Teratron squeezed his shoulders, pressing harder against him.

Unh! We’ll succeed, my Lord, you have my word!

Teratron didn’t move or relinquish his grip. Vulcanus could see in fine detail the set of long scars that started just under his left optic and ran diagonally across his nose and jaw, wounds that had been soldered closed but could not be removed. How Vulcanus hated that turncoat wench for giving their leader those scars! Those, and the deep weld scar at his right flank, which Vulcanus couldn’t see from his current vantage point. The young Commander of Aerospace had witnessed friends and foes alike be blown apart, but he never knew real fear for another’s life until the day he had to stanch the flow of fuel from a near-severed line in Teratron’s side, his lord’s lifeblood dripping through his clamped fingers. At least the little traitor got what she deserved.

Teratron locked optics with him. I have your word?

Vulcanus gave a soft nod. You have my word...and my life, Lord.

Good, Teratron sneered. His grip shifted, relaxed.

Vulcanus felt a rush of relief - he was no longer about to die - followed by a secondary rush that he still couldn’t understand. All he knew was that he suddenly didn’t want Teratron to let go of his shoulders, or back away from him, even though his leader did exactly that. Teratron spun on his heel and headed back toward his throne too briskly to see Vulcanus collapse onto the floor in a dazed heap.

You are dismissed, Vulcanus...

His adjutant managed to gather himself back to his feet just as Teratron was about to take a sip out of the first measure of glowing pink liquid.

And thanks for the liquifuel.

Vulcanus could only nod, salute, and hastily take his leave.

He found himself back in the base’s central corridor wrestling with his own physical hunger, confusion and lack of fulfillment. For a soldier, Vulcanus told himself, emotions only presented a liability. But why did his leader elicit so many intense and conflicting ones within him? Just focus on your duties, he ordered himself, and put that out of your mind.

Ahead of him, Eclipse the Tracker rounded a corner and entered the corridor.

Vulcanus scowled. Here his underling was, disobeying a direct order, and strolling closer as if he thought nothing of it!

Eclipse saluted as he reached his commander’s position. Vulcanus kept a cool bearing until that moment. Then he snatched Eclipse’s outstretched arm and threw him against the wall.

Insubordinate cur, he snarled, looming nose-to-nose with Eclipse, I ordered you to stand down!

Something was definitely wrong with Eclipse. Instead of cowering or offering up excuses, the Tracker simply narrowed his optics and grinned at him.

I needed the stroll to clear my head, he answered suavely. Then he drew in air through the olfactory sensors in his aquiline nose...and drew in again, deeper, and sneered.

Within the body of this Tracker, Rigel was still amazed how sharp his hearing - and sense of smell - had become. He heard Vulcanus’ footsteps before he ever turned the corner, even detected the distraction in his cadence. Now