stolen from under our very noses. They died defending us. Defending you!”
“Enough!” The woman’s usually kind eyes turned vicious. “Ever since you were a little girl you’ve been trying to fix every wrong, but the world doesn’t work that way, Beatrix. You’ve only lived seventeen cycles, I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect my daughter to obey my command. You will keep quiet and pack your things!”
Wordless and shaking, Beatrix turned her back on her mother, sprinting away from the helpless sheep her people had become. She ran and ran, not stopping until she reached the tall pine tree that rose on the outskirts of the prairie. A tear dripped from her eyes as she ran her finger over the carving her father and she had etched into the tree all those cycles ago. Her eyes closed.
This is our home , muttered her father. She was that little girl all over again. She coughed as his father’s strong aroma after a day’s work at the fields filled her nostrils. With his strong hands, he threw Beatrix over his shoulder, talking as he walked. It is where my father’s father, and his father’s father lived out their life. And it is where you will one day raise your family. We must cherish it and protect it.
Her eyes opened. There was no father. No more scent of mud. No strong arms to cradle her safely. All that was left was anguish, dark and bleak. Anguish at having lost her father and uncle. Anguish at having been unable to protect their land. Hours later, as she boarded the Bastion ship relocating them to another moon, that anguished turned into an icy fury.
Her mother rested a hand on her shoulder, Beatrix’s rage was replaced by a look of defeat. It was the same look that was shared by every woman, child, and elder who surrounded her.
As the ship rose into the sky, ready to take them to their new home, Beatrix stared at the steel floor. She had no desire to look out the window as the Bastion architects scoured Palek, deciding where they would defile the land by erecting their steel buildings. The young girl’s knuckles turned white as she balled her hand into a fist. It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming.
Chapter 4
Xalen moved down the long corridor, gazing at one statue after another. There seemed to be countless statues lining both sides of the corridor like silent, marbled guardians. Golden plaques were etched under their feet, relaying the story of the person above. He didn’t bother to read any of them until he reached a statue that, instead of marble, was made of simple stone. Its legs and hands were cracked, and half of the face was missing. The plaque underneath read:
In memory of Alioth Musashi.
In starcycle 333 the Sanatus, vile creatures of destruction, arrived from the depths of space. Their armies destroyed all who got in their way. No one could stand against their ferocity. On the brink of total annihilation, a warrior rose from the ranks of the humans. He led the Bastion in the victory of High Void. He turned the tides at the Clash of Red Hill. He alone was responsible for the destruction of the Sanatus’ third battalion. When his time came to—
“Hey, move,” ordered a voice behind him.
Xalen turned, coming face-to-face with a girl with light purple skin. She looked to be the same age as him. Half of her head was bald, the other sported a long wave of dark hair. The mysterious tattoo decorating the bald spot, along with the frown on her face, gave her a tough exterior. She wore a light brown leather suit that exposed the top of her breasts. Her left arm had been completely replaced by a metallic one the color of her suit. Within the small holes and patterns in the metal pieces of the arm, he saw the careful work of an expert metaton. The cables were aligned neatly inside, without a single one exposed to the elements. The way she effortlessly moved her arm made it obvious that it was evenly weighted.
“Are you going to stare all day?” she
“Enough!” The woman’s usually kind eyes turned vicious. “Ever since you were a little girl you’ve been trying to fix every wrong, but the world doesn’t work that way, Beatrix. You’ve only lived seventeen cycles, I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect my daughter to obey my command. You will keep quiet and pack your things!”
Wordless and shaking, Beatrix turned her back on her mother, sprinting away from the helpless sheep her people had become. She ran and ran, not stopping until she reached the tall pine tree that rose on the outskirts of the prairie. A tear dripped from her eyes as she ran her finger over the carving her father and she had etched into the tree all those cycles ago. Her eyes closed.
This is our home , muttered her father. She was that little girl all over again. She coughed as his father’s strong aroma after a day’s work at the fields filled her nostrils. With his strong hands, he threw Beatrix over his shoulder, talking as he walked. It is where my father’s father, and his father’s father lived out their life. And it is where you will one day raise your family. We must cherish it and protect it.
Her eyes opened. There was no father. No more scent of mud. No strong arms to cradle her safely. All that was left was anguish, dark and bleak. Anguish at having lost her father and uncle. Anguish at having been unable to protect their land. Hours later, as she boarded the Bastion ship relocating them to another moon, that anguished turned into an icy fury.
Her mother rested a hand on her shoulder, Beatrix’s rage was replaced by a look of defeat. It was the same look that was shared by every woman, child, and elder who surrounded her.
As the ship rose into the sky, ready to take them to their new home, Beatrix stared at the steel floor. She had no desire to look out the window as the Bastion architects scoured Palek, deciding where they would defile the land by erecting their steel buildings. The young girl’s knuckles turned white as she balled her hand into a fist. It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming.
Chapter 4
Xalen moved down the long corridor, gazing at one statue after another. There seemed to be countless statues lining both sides of the corridor like silent, marbled guardians. Golden plaques were etched under their feet, relaying the story of the person above. He didn’t bother to read any of them until he reached a statue that, instead of marble, was made of simple stone. Its legs and hands were cracked, and half of the face was missing. The plaque underneath read:
In memory of Alioth Musashi.
In starcycle 333 the Sanatus, vile creatures of destruction, arrived from the depths of space. Their armies destroyed all who got in their way. No one could stand against their ferocity. On the brink of total annihilation, a warrior rose from the ranks of the humans. He led the Bastion in the victory of High Void. He turned the tides at the Clash of Red Hill. He alone was responsible for the destruction of the Sanatus’ third battalion. When his time came to—
“Hey, move,” ordered a voice behind him.
Xalen turned, coming face-to-face with a girl with light purple skin. She looked to be the same age as him. Half of her head was bald, the other sported a long wave of dark hair. The mysterious tattoo decorating the bald spot, along with the frown on her face, gave her a tough exterior. She wore a light brown leather suit that exposed the top of her breasts. Her left arm had been completely replaced by a metallic one the color of her suit. Within the small holes and patterns in the metal pieces of the arm, he saw the careful work of an expert metaton. The cables were aligned neatly inside, without a single one exposed to the elements. The way she effortlessly moved her arm made it obvious that it was evenly weighted.
“Are you going to stare all day?” she
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