 
Creyson Parthy & The Trojan Attack

Published by Paul Richard Bailey at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Paul Richard Bailey

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Chapter One

' **Valiros'**

In all my life, I had never known the mighty lights that illuminated Valiros to fail; it was unthinkable. Nevertheless there I stood, engulfed by darkness.

The lights were designed to fade to a subtle glow at night and brighten to full beam every morning; they were constant and dependable. Despite the fact it was still early in the day, the lights hadn't faded, they'd simply gone out. It was as if someone had left the room and flicked a switch.

I didn't move a muscle as I waited.

A loud clunk, followed by a strange whooshing sound, and the lights began to power back up, flooding the land with their dazzling rays.

I breathed a sigh, before continuing on my journey.

I assumed someone, somewhere had made a mistake; pressed the wrong button. No doubt they would receive a rather stern reprimand

My name is Creyson Parthy. During my one cycle and eleven phases in this world, I'd managed to live seven hundred and two days of an unremarkable life. On day seven hundred and three, everything changed.

This day started as most. The lights came on; the population went about their business, and life continued in its normal, organised way. We had no way of knowing that the failing lights were a prelude to something far more dangerous, or that this particular day was the beginning of the Trojan attack.

I was walking to meet my friend Benton, before work, at the hillside on the edge of my old village. He was unhappy as he'd received his order of enrolment into the military.

Benton was a self-inflicted outcast; convinced that people didn't like him. He was socially awkward, veered towards the negative, and struggled to develop friendships. We both knew this day was inevitable, but its arrival would take Benton to a whole new level of unhappiness.

He stood at the top of the hill looking as low-spirited as I expected. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was his overwhelming sadness that consumed the lights, and caused the sudden darkness that submerged the field.

Benton offered a half-hearted attempt at a wave, barely lifting his hand above waist level. I returned the gesture with slightly more enthusiasm.

We'd grown up together, and our friendship was based on a mutual understanding of what it was like to be different. He was the pessimist, and I was the optimist; both challenging the other to see the world differently. I'd learnt to hide my peculiarities far better than Benton had, by accepting society's rules. His lack of acceptance caused his oddities to stand out like a tone-deaf singer in a pitch perfect choir.

"Hello Crey," he welcomed in a miserable voice. As a vacuum sucks dirt from a grimy rug, Benton sucks cheerfulness from a joyful person.

His clothes were shabby, his long hair was unkempt, and dark rings circled his eyes, symptomatic of a restless night's sleep.

We shared pleasantries and caught up with gossip; both completely avoiding the topic of his new appointment.

Eventually we stopped talking and flopped on the ground. Relaxing, and using our hands as headrests, we both lay on the soft grass transfixed on the black and silver sphere that encased our home world.

"What do you reckon's out there?" puzzled Benton.

"Amazing winged creatures that soar in the skies," I replied. "Cities twice the size of anything we've seen. Aliens with purple hair and four legs."

"Crey..."

"Countless civilisations all living in other bubbles."

"But you'll never know. You'll never know if there's flying creatures or four legged aliens."

"But I can imagine."

"Forget imagining, Crey, wouldn't you like to know what's out there?"

"That's dangerous talk Benton. If the Council heard you speaking like that, they'd lock you up."

We both shared the same fascination. As infants, we'd spent countless days and nights on the rolling hills less than a hundred paces from our village of Danton, imagining the unimaginable.

Benton sighed. "Once I start my new duties, I'll probably find out."

"I'm sorry Benton. But you never know, you may like the military."

"Doubt it."

"You're going to see things, discover things that I never will."

"I'm going to be condemned to spend the rest of my life alone under the service of the High Darlon Council. You can't understand what that's like."

I was trying to perk him up, but I knew as well as he did, nobody wanted to be forced to join the military.

We fell silent and looked up at the sphere. It encompassed all of Valiros; once condemning the land to perpetual darkness, until the creation of the artificial lighting.

Over the cycles, there'd been numerous expeditions to crack the surface and venture beyond its boundaries, none of them had been successful. As far as the general population was concerned, the world outside of our own was a mystery, an unanswerable question that stirred debate within Valiron society. Even members of the High Darlon Council claimed ignorance.

"I think the bubble is there to stop us from getting out," scoffed Benton.

"Or maybe it's there to stop something else from getting in."

"Either way, the government are lying to us."

"If they are, it's probably for our own good."

"I'd rather join the Veils than the military."

"Now that's even more dangerous. They're an outlawed group."

As with most great mysteries, it led to conspiracy theories and wild speculation. It also gave birth to a group that met in the cover of night, and hid in the shadows of society, the Veils.

Benton reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and placed it on the ground, brushing his hands over the paper to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Look at this," he said, handing the sheet to me.

It was a simple poster with a black background and bold, white writing.

The writing read: UNRAVEL THE MYSTERY AND EXPOSE THE TRUTH.

"Benton, what are you doing with this?"

"I found it."

"Well get rid of it."

"They're all over Lincoll."

"I don't care."

He snatched the poster off me and shoved it back into his pocket.

"The Veils _know_ that the government are lying to us. They say the military will block any attempt to break through the sphere."

"Maybe there's a good reason. How do you know whatever's out there isn't so terrible, they have to hide the truth? Or maybe there's nothing out there at all, and this is just the Veils causing trouble."

I wasn't, and nor did I want to be, a follower of the Veils; but I understood their curiosity, and shared their inquisitiveness. Their ethos had tempted many an outcast, which is why Benton would have made an ideal recruit.

"They're brave," he continued. "They're brave enough to challenge the government; to demand answers."

"If they were that brave then they wouldn't keep hiding. My grandfather used to call them ruffians who didn't have the faintest clue what they're doing."

"The Veils aren't the only ones who don't know what they're doing," mumbled Benton as he pulled blades of grass out of the ground. "Ah, ignore me, Crey."

I admit to dreaming of a world beyond my own, a place that's filled with new sights and sounds. I'd imagined what it would be like to escape the clutches of my somewhat restrictive world and experience a freedom that Valirons were not permitted. But joining the Veils was not the way to do it.

"Sometimes you have to try and see the positive side. Sure, Valiros has got its faults, but it's not all that bad."

"I'm not saying Valiros is a bad place to live; I mean, in a lot of ways it's practically perfect. If you believe the propaganda then Valiros is a beautiful utopia," Benton adopted a mockingly posh tone, "a place of harmony, cooperation, and understanding."

"And doesn't that sound like the sort of world you want to live in?"

"But how can you say that crime, poverty, and suffering have been obliterated? You can't. The Council would _like_ us to believe that we all live in a state of pure contentment."

His contemptuous attitude was beginning to aggravate me.

"Look around you. Most people are."

"I just don't think happiness should be forced or expected. How can you pass a law that demands you stay happy?"

"Happiness leads to a productive society, and a productive society is a stable one."

"You sound like the council's propaganda machine."

"I'd like to believe they're just trying to protect what we've built."

"It's not protection. They're basically outlawing free will. You know, and I know, the High Darlon Council considers disruption a disease, an infection to be cured."

"That's a little harsh."

Climbing to his feet, Benton stared beyond the rolling hills at the Valiros Capital, Trans Central, standing proud on the horizon.

"Look at them," he spat, "sitting in their perfect homes, living their perfect lives, all pretending to be happy because that's what they're told to be. We look up to them because of where they live. We wouldn't be allowed to live in the city."

The city sparkled in the radiant illumination provided by the huge candescent lights suspended from large metal tracks that ran the interior of the sphere.

Each building was a crafted work of art embedded with hundreds of windows that glistened under the bathing luminescence. The capital, as with all of Valiros, was uniform in colour and style. Every building, door, and window was beautifully designed to complement its neighbour. In the centre of the city was the High Darlon Council building. Its circular structure was the focal point of Trans Central, and every preceding building flowed in the same circular pattern, creating a swirl effect that caused the city to fan outwards. With the use of various shades of white and grey, all the constructions blended together, combined with smooth and curving lines. The architecture aimed to create a seamless appearance of almost liquid beauty. Valiron design rarely incorporates sharp edges such as squares or triangles, and instead favours arcs and circles. Even if you tried you could find no end or beginning within the city. Trans Central was one monument, all linked together to create an appearance of complete unity; a beacon for people to aspire.

As we looked on at the capital, one of the overhead lights near the edge of the city flickered; first brightening to a dazzling white then dimming to a muddy yellow, before returning to its normal beam. It was similar to the event I had experienced, only less severe. Benton didn't seem to notice.

I stood next to my friend, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm his irritation.

"You can see our village from here. Look at it." He switched his gaze to Danton. It was equally well designed and exquisitely formed, if less grand in execution. "I think Danton is just as beautiful as Trans Central. Don't you?"

"Sure... because individual creativity is frowned upon and conformity is a way of life."

"Now _you_ sound like a conspiracy nut."

We both laughed.

"I'm going to miss this, Crey; you and me putting the world to rights."

" _I'm_ not going to miss it... But I am going to miss you."

There was an uneasiness between us.

"I'd better go. I leave this afternoon, and I still need to pack."

"I'll come and see you before... before they collect you."

"I'd rather you didn't." He forced a smile. "Besides, then you'll have to face Zeal." The mere mention of that girl's name sent a shiver through my body.

"Good point."

"Bye Crey."

We shared a brief, uncomfortable hug.

"Bye Benton."

And with that simple farewell, he set off down the hill back to Danton.

Benton's anger and bitterness often left me feeling gloomy, but it also made me question many of my own beliefs.

It's the Valiron ambition to live only for the betterment of Valkind, and to achieve perfection in all that we do. I'd always tried to live by this philosophy, but if I were to listen to Benton then that way of life was unattainable.

My world hadn't always been a structured, pretty place, at least not until 'The Change'.

History concerning our culture prior to 'The Change' is fragmented, lost over time. This has led many to theorise that Darlon Officials have conspired to conceal the truth from the populace; a notion strongly rejected by the High Darlon Council.

At school, we were taught that our world was once a savage and inhospitable place, consumed by an unending darkness that bred solitude, forcing its people to live only to survive. 'The Change' saw the birth of light, education; turning an aggressive people into an enlightened one. How this happened is never included in any teachings.

As I watched Benton make his way down the hill, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his fate, I had no idea that in less than twenty-four hours, the secrets of our world would be revealed to me. I would find out what lay beyond the sphere, I would discover what dangers threatened my people, and I would be forced to make choices that would not only change my future, but the future of all Valirons.

My name is Creyson Parthy, and this is my story...

Chapter Two

' **Home'**

"We won," proclaimed Mr Tide as he burst through the door of the office.

I sat behind my desk, daydreaming while flicking through a pile of paper work that I'd already organised twice, once alphabetically, then in date order. I was bored.

Mr Tide's large entrance startled me, and I knocked the paper work to the floor.

"Congratulations, sir." I cheered as I began to collect the scattered documents.

Mr Tide frowned. "Imagining other things, Crey?"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

He took off his coat and threw it over the back of his chair.

"Waste of time. What more could you want? Don't forget our slogan Mr Parthy. A voice for the working class. Could you imagine a more honourable job?"

'Clint and Tide' was a small law firm just outside the city. The firm dealt in minor work disputes and accidental injuries. I'm no lawyer; my job entailed serving drinks, making appointments and running errands.

"I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again." I put the disorganised paper work back on my desk.

He collapsed into his seat and began to tap the computer keyboard. "What's wrong with this thing?" he asked.

"I've been trying to get them on all morning, but none of the computers are working."

"Well that's unusual."

"Yes, sir."

He leaned back on his chair, and I heard the squeak of springs as they resisted his weight. "Crey, when Mr Clint and I started this firm, do you think we would have been successful if we'd allowed our imagination to overrule our senses?"

"No sir."

Mr Clint retired shortly after I started working for the company, but Mr Tide seemed to be defying the test of time. I suspected he'd work until the day he died.

After less than one phase in the job I quickly learned my employer placed little credence in the company slogan personally, and was more focused on the jobs that paid. Regardless, he did represent the 'unimportant people', and through either talent or pure luck, won most of his cases against corporate companies. I always tried to be enthusiastic and polite, but I found the job tedious and dull, often going through the motions while dreaming of a more exciting life.

"You could go far, Crey," Mr Tide spluttered. "Knuckle down, stay focused, and in a few cycles you could be where I am, provided you put a stop to your pointless imaginings."

"But sir," I contested, "surely there's nothing wrong with imagining new things, and trying to be more than you are."

"We all strive to be more than we are," he agreed, "but it's equally important to know your limitations."

I found his advice disheartening.

"Yes sir."

"There isn't much going on, and the computers aren't working, so why don't you go home? Take the rest of the afternoon off, and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Thank you sir." I picked up my coat and bag, and began to leave when Mr Tide's phone started to ring. He answered it in his usual enthusiastic manner.

"Hello. Clint and Tide, a voice for the working class. Mr Tide speaking, how can I help you?" There was a short pause as he listened. I saw his face drop. "The High Darlon Council...? Yes, Mr Parthy works... Hang on." He looked at me. "Off you go, Creyson."

Curious as to the mention of my name, I left the office, gently closing the door behind me.

I'd left Danton one phase earlier. I now lived in a compact habitable unit on the outer limits of Trans Central. I was extremely fortunate to have a dwelling so close to the Capital. Most Valirons lived in the many communal villages far beyond the umbrella of the city.

Valiros has a strict class division. This doesn't simply include your heritage or wealth, but also your physical location. Where you live indicates your work and social position within the social order. In essence, the closer to the city you live the higher status you hold. The main city habitable units are reserved for the higher classes such as government officials, and military hierarchy. I was none of these. I'd inherited my unit from my grandfather who had worked as an aid to the High Darlon Council. His position entitled him to certain benefits, one of which was a modest unit on the edge of the city border. Just before his passing, he bestowed his home to me, and I was more than happy to take responsibility of his humble estate. No-one questioned the decision or demanded the unit be vacated, so I'd not raised the issue.

My grandfather was a proud individual. He often appeared detached, sometimes downright impolite, but he had a generous heart that had been hardened by the traumatic journey my family had travelled over the cycles.

He lost his life partner (my grandmother) only half a cycle after their bonding ceremony. Her illness was quick and painless but unexpected. Since then he'd lived an isolated existence. The disappearance of his daughter (my mother) half a cycle ago had not helped his disposition.

The day my grandfather died, he called me to his bedside. Although the lights above still shone bright, the day was a dark one. Nurses flitted back and forth, plumping pillows, changing medication, all in an attempt to make the aged Valiron comfortable. Their presence seemed to annoy him; he never did like a fuss being made.

"Crey," he beckoned, his voice weak and frail. Wanting to appear strong, for his sake more than mine, I wiped my tears and feigned a smile.

"You need to rest," I encouraged.

"Plenty of time for rest, Creyson."

"Can I get you anything?" I wanted so much to ease his discomfort.

"Nothing." He winced in pain. "All I need you to do is listen."

"I really think you should rest."

"Listen. It's your responsibility, Crey."

"What is?"

One nurse was drawing the curtains while another was flicking through his medication chart.

"Can't I get a little privacy?"

They smiled at him but didn't leave. "They're just doing their job, grandfather."

"You always were the diplomat." A brutal cough stole his breath. "I pray I've prepared you for what lies ahead."

"You've raised me well. Don't worry."

"My dear Crey, I'm not talking about...." He slid himself further up the bed pushing his back against the pillows. Leaning on his elbows, he lifted his body towards mine. "Our world is a perilous place. Your faith and trust shelters you from seeing the truth. You're innocent, and that is your weakness, but your imagination can be your saviour."

"I don't understand."

"Once I've passed, they will begin their plan. I've protected your identity, but the day may soon arrive when great demands are made of you. Remember my teachings. Trust no-one, especially him. He'll try to be your friend, mislead you, but his only alliance is to the darkness." Another cough. He shuffled back down the bed, rested his head on the pillow, and took my hand in his. "Remember this; speak and be heard, Creyson Parthy. Speak and be heard. It's the only way to save us." He squeezed my hand a little tighter. "All that I have is yours."

His grip released, he closed his eyes and drifted away. The final member of my family had gone. I was alone.

I didn't understand his final words, and there wasn't a chance to ask to whom he was referring. I attributed his strange ramblings to his ill health combined with powerful medication; but it did appear his final wish was for me to inherit his possessions, and that also included his modest home.

When I say modest, what I actually mean is small, really small. The efficient unit consisted of one sleeping cubicle, a cooking compartment, a minute cleaning booth, and a main living area. Minimalism was a running theme. Clutter leads to mess, mess leads to disorganisation. A tidy appearance is compulsory, comfort an indulgence.

The walls were white and bare except for a single framed, written passage that hung on the wall in the living area. It was my grandfather's favourite proverb, written more than twenty cycles ago by one of our greatest literary minds, Haldon Franz. The passage read;

" _A dream for one can be a dream for many._

If I dream of a new future, could I imagine a new present?

One dream can be forgotten, two can be ignored.

But if there were four then six, they should never be discounted.

A dream for one can be a dream for all."

These words meant little to me, but my grandfather held them close to his heart. He would often quote the passage to me before I slept. This particular passage was one of Haldon Franz's less popular, mainly because it suggested following your dreams, which is far too illogical for a Valiron.

I walked through my front door, slipped off my coat, hung it on the coat rack, and dumped my workbag on the floor. The unit was silent. It still didn't feel quite like home, it felt as if I was just visiting, and at any moment my grandfather would burst through the door moaning about this and that.

It was strange to be home in the middle of the day. The mid-afternoon light poured through the small living area window flooding the room with its stark, almost clinical rays.

I changed out of my grey suit, hanging it neatly back in my wardrobe, and put on a fresh pair of grey slacks, and a white, fluffy jumper that made me feel warm and cosy.

Not wanting to waste the afternoon, I had a little spruce around the unit, changing the bed, dusting the living area, emptying the bins, and clearing out-of-date food from the cupboards. I tied up a bag of rubbish and carried it to the disposal container at the rear of the property.

My small, usually well-kept, garden had overgrown slightly. I'd neglected it over the past phase. As well as potted flowers, a small table and chairs, and one wilting fruit tree, the garden also housed yet another of Valiros' most guarded secrets. The Trojan Device.

The Trojan was an ugly hunk of metal that seemed to fight against all that Valiros strived to be. There were no smooth edges, no arcs or circles. The device was obviously never intended to be beautiful, and nor did it pretend to be. They were considered unattractive pieces of equipment that constantly ruined the suave appearance of the landscape.

The device stood at over three metres tall, dominating the ground that surrounded it. Creepy, angular shadows were cast in all directions. Layers of triangular jagged metal overlapped to create a terrifying, spiky cocoon shape that all amassed to a sharp single point at its top. There were thousands of the contraptions scattered throughout Valiros doing nothing except being unsightly.

I lifted the lid on the disposal container and dumped the rubbish inside. Before returning to the unit, I stood and stared at the device. I'd often considered covering the monstrosity from view, but this was unwise considering the so-called 'importance' of the unsightly apparatus. As others had discovered, any attempt to hide, disturb, or hinder the Trojan would lead to severe punishment at the hands of the Trojan Keepers, an assembly of individuals dedicated to the preservation of the hideous devices. They were above the military, and beyond the reach of the government; they were an untouchable group shrouded in even more secrecy.

Those who have challenged the Keepers or interfered with the Trojans have been taken to correctional facilities never to be heard from again. I suspected these stories may have been invented in an attempt to ensure the Trojans' ambiguity, but I wasn't willing to take the risk.

A tiny green light flashed at the Trojan's tip. I couldn't remember noticing it before, not that I'd given the device that much attention.

I didn't know what the Trojan Device actually was, and totally clueless as to its purpose. Of course, there were many theories, or rather myths, concerning the Trojan Devices. One of the most popular of these was that the Trojans played a part in 'The Change'; how or why was never made clear. The High Darlon Council had no official statement or position, so speculation was rife. Personally I didn't care where they'd come from, I just wished one of them wasn't sitting in the middle of my previously well-maintained, pretty garden.

I walked into the cooking compartment and flicked the switch down on the kettle. After a couple of minutes, I realised the water wasn't boiling. I pressed my hand gently on its side to test the temperature, but it remained cold. I flicked the switch several more times before checking it was connected to the wall socket. I was baffled. First, the failing lights, then the computers in the office, and now the kettle.

Suddenly I heard the bubbling sound of boiling water and the hiss of steam spurting from the spout.

"That's weird," I said to the kettle.

I made myself a soothing hot drink and walked out of the cooking compartment.

I'd just sat down on the sofa ready to catch up with the day's events on the viewing terminal, when suddenly there came three mighty knocks on my front door.

Chapter Three

' **The Offer'**

I swung the door open with a smile, ready to welcome whoever had knocked so sturdily. My smile vanished, and I stood flabbergasted staring at Minister Drake.

With the exception of my grandfather, I had no ties to the government, or any high power organisation for that matter, so the last thing I expected to find when I answered my front door was the High Darlon Council's Public Representative staring back at me.

"Good morning," Minster Drake said in a slow, drawling tone. "Is this the unit of Talsen Trent?"

"Yes. No. It was. Sorry. He passed away a phase ago. I live here now." My initial thought was _'This is it. Pack your bags they're kicking you out.'_ I was almost certain he'd come to order me to vacate the unit.

"So you're Talsen Trent's grandson, Creyson Parthy?"

"Erm, yes?" I sounded like I was asking a question rather than answering one.

"Excellent," was his delighted response. "I'm Minister Drake, Public Representative for the High Darlon Council."

Drake was tall and lean. He carried himself with an air of self-confidence, almost an arrogant superiority that is often unseen in Valirons. His mustard coloured suit was crisp and immaculate, but it hung off his slender frame making the tailored outfit look slightly scruffy. His features were sharp and pointed, and his skin almost grey. His dull granite face appeared so stern I doubted he was even capable of a smile. But it was far more than just the Minister's appearance that made him stand out in a crowd. His voice, in my opinion, sounded... odd. Drake spoke like a Valiron attempting to sound like a native, as if he were acting out a role and the script was foreign to him. Every word that escaped his mouth seemed peculiar; only subtle things, a slight mispronunciation here, the wrong intonation there; and I'm almost certain I saw concentration in Drake's face when he spoke. Why someone so different from the masses would be assigned the position of Public Representative was beyond me.

In comparison, I was your average Valiron. Standing at just under a metre and a half in height with straight, dark brown hair that flopped over my forehead; round, plump features; a reddish glow to my skin; a stocky frame that filled the clothes I wore; and a cheery smile that was practically a permanent feature. Always ready to apologies; assured but never conceited. All of this made me a typical depiction of my people.

"I do hope this isn't a bad time?"

"Actually, I was just getting ready to watch..." I stopped. You don't tell a member of the council you're too busy to speak. "No sir, not a bad time at all."

"Good."

This was followed by an awkward silence. We both stood unmoving for what felt like an eternity, but I'm sure in reality was only a few seconds.

This was the first time I'd met Minister Drake in person, and I was taken aback by his daunting appearance. I always knew the Public Representative was tall, but I wasn't prepared for him to be a giant. He was an imposing figure standing at nearly two metres, possibly taller. Although I'd seen him on the viewing terminal, nothing could have prepared me for the genuine article.

Thankfully, Minster Drake broke the silence. "May I come inside?"

I kicked myself for not having invited the Minister into my home. It was a terrible lack of courtesy, and I was mortified by my tardy hospitality.

"Oh, erm... Of course, yes." I stammered, attempting to hide my embarrassment. "I'm sorry, but I'm... I'm a little surprised, sir... Not in a bad way, just well... surprised." I needed to shut up. "Please, won't you come in?" My face was more than a red glow by now. I moved to one side and gestured the Minster to enter.

"Mind your head." Even as the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them.

Drake frowned. "Thank you for the advice."

Having limitations was one thing, pointing them out was rude; my second mistake. No doubt the Minister was well aware of his shortcomings. Forgive the pun. My ceilings weren't especially low; in fact, they were a standard height, but at that moment my unit felt like a toy house. I wondered how many times the Minister had heard the phrase 'Mind your head'.

Drake ducked under the doorway, which led straight into the living area.

"You have a delightful home."

"Thank you, sir."

"Very... tidy."

"I just cleaned." I didn't know why I told him that.

Although there was adequate head room for any normal Valiron, Minster Drake remained slightly hunched to prevent his head brushing against the ceiling. I observed the Minister's rather uncomfortable posture.

"Would you care to sit down?" I asked, motioning to a snug chair loaded with grey and white pillows. I wasn't entirely sure he was going to fit.

Minster Drake was clearly relieved by the offer. Throwing the cushions to the floor, he squeezed himself into the tiny seat. It was almost comical.

"Thank you, Mr Parthy."

I forced a 'you're welcome' smile and then took a seat opposite the Public Representative.

As I stared at him, my dreaded imagination sprang to life. _What if he wasn't Valiron? But if he wasn't Valiron then what was he? Who was he? Perhaps he was sent to infiltrate the government, or perhaps he was created in a lab in an experiment to test the boundaries of genetics._ I snapped out of my imaginary landscape and I scolded myself for having such ridiculous notions. My people are logical and rarely give in to whimsical thoughts. My imagination had landed me in several sticky situations in the past. Overtime, I'd learned to subdue my inventive mind and blend into society, but Minister Drake was unable to hide his differences. I sympathised with him; going through life knowing he looked and spoke so differently from everyone else must have been difficult.

"Mr Parthy?" the Minster asked, visibly concerned.

"Sorry?"

"You were staring."

"I am? I mean, I was?"

"Is something wrong?"

I recovered quickly. "No. Nothing at all. Drink? As in, would you care for one? The kettle's just boiled."

The Minister seemed to deliberate the question in his mind before answering.

"No, thank you."

"Okay," I said, grabbing my mug and taking a quick gulp of my own lukewarm beverage.

There was yet another awkward silence, but this time it was broken by an all too familiar sound.

A roaring blast vibrated through the unit. I'd heard the sound thousands of times before, but I was already tense in present company; I almost jumped out of my skin. The Trojan Device had activated as it did six times a day, every day; regular as clockwork.

The deafening clatter and vibration was a combination of thousands of Trojan Devices the length and breadth of Valiros activating at the same time.

My heart began to pump faster. Most people had learned to ignore the disturbing racket that literally caused the floor to tremble beneath their feet, but I felt different. The sound resembled a heavy piece of machinery being forcibly dragged across the roof of my home, and the tremors felt as if they were capable of ripping our little world apart.

One of the problems with having an active imagination is it sometimes takes you to a dark place of fear and panic. When I was small these events had terrified me, and my mother often found me hiding under the bed or cowering in a corner. She explained that the Trojans couldn't hurt me, but it was difficult to believe her when it felt as if our unit was falling down around our ears.

" _They keep us safe,"_ my mother once told me _"That's all you need to know."_

After less than twenty seconds, the devices deactivated, and the unit was plunged back into the previous awkward silence. I wasn't sure which state I preferred.

"Are you well Mr Parthy?" asked the Minister with yet more genuine concern.

"Yes, erm... of course. Fine," I babbled, not wanting to appear childish; after all, I was practically entering adulthood at almost two cycles old.

Drake continued to stare with an expression of worry; he was unconvinced by my assertion. I obviously looked as nervous as I felt.

"Do the Trojans make you nervous?"

"You'd think I'd be used to it by now." I quickly changed the topic. "Sir, I don't wish to sound rude but... why are you here?"

The Minister processed my words before answering. "I was an acquaintance of your grandfather. Shortly before his passing he mentioned you."

The Minister shuffled in his seat, noticeably uncomfortable in a chair that was far too small.

"Did you know him well, sir?"

"He worked in my office. Over the cycles I had the honour of having many late night conversations with him."

I was still grieving my grandfather's passing and revelled in the opportunity to talk about him.

"Were you close?"

"Work colleagues more than friends. And you?"

"After my mother... disappeared, my grandfather took me under his wing. He taught me the ways of the world, encouraged my imagination. He never said much about his work, but I'm surprised he never mentioned knowing the Public Representative personally." I realised how offensive that statement sounded. "Not to say you weren't important to him, sir, I'm sure you were. It was probably just..."

"It's quite alright, Mr Parthy. I would have been more concerned if your grandfather had mentioned me." I found his statement puzzling. Why would my grandfather have needed to hide his work associations?

The Minister continued. "His loss came as a great blow to us all. His illness was incredibly sudden."

"It was, sir."

"We were extremely unprepared, and we have yet to fill his position."

I wasn't sure why, but my stomach turned.

"Which leads me to the purpose of my visit. After several lengthy discussions with the High Darlon Council, we arrived at the conclusion that the best replacement for your grandfather would be you."

My stomach no longer turned instead it was flipping over.

"Me?"

"Yes. Officially, you would be listed as my personal aid."

The word 'officially' was disturbing. I couldn't help but wonder what my unofficial title would be.

Mr Tide's words rang in my head _'Know your limitations.'_ Did I want to leave my current job? I didn't even know what being a personal aid entailed. I had to think quickly; the last thing any Valiron wanted to do was upset the High Darlon Council.

"Thank you very much for the offer sir, but I already have a job with Clint and Tide, the law firm."

"Yes, we know," uttered Drake, more to himself than to me. "We have already spoken to your employer, a Mr Tide, and he has agreed to terminate your employment, with immediate effect."

"Excuse me?"

"Is that a problem?"

"It's just..." I didn't know what to say.

Decisions were being made without my consent. This was my life; surely it should be my choice where I work. I wasn't sure if I should have been flattered or offended. Was I so expendable to 'Clint and Tide', or had the High Darlon Council applied some undue pressure on the aging lawyer? This encounter was getting odder and odder. I pondered if it were possible my grandfather played some larger role within Valiros, more than I'd ever conceived.

I felt the Minister's eyes bearing down on me as he waited, eager for my answer. This was all too much. I needed to buy some time; consider the offer.

"Can I have a few days to think about it?" I asked as tactfully as possible.

"No." The response was quick and concise, knocking me off balance. That single word seemed to convey an array of emotions, one of which I determined to be desperation. It swiftly occurred to me that this impromptu visit was merely a formality. I was in no position to refuse the offer as the decision had already been made.

Minister Drake spoke again, only softer this time. "I'm sorry to be so blunt Mr Parthy, but it's vital that we fill this position as quickly as possible. I need an answer now."

There was little I could say. I'd been backed into a corner with no hope of escape. He wasn't asking, he was telling. I accepted my plight.

"Of course sir, it would be an honour to work for the High Darlon Council."

"Good. Splendid."

There was a noticeable change in the Minister's face. No longer appearing desperate, instead he seemed...relieved. But there was more to his expression, I sensed a hidden agenda disguised behind an unattractive attempt at a smile.

"When would I start?"

The Minister squeezed himself out of the chair with considerable effort. Once again I was astounded by his height.

"Meet me at first light tomorrow morning outside the High Darlon Council building."

"Tomorrow? Yes sir." I replied with less eagerness than I intended.

The Minister smiled again. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was definitely a hint of deception behind that harmless grin.

"Excellent," Drake responded enthusiastically. "Thank you for your hospitality."

He began to leave but stopped and turned back to me.

"Oh, there is one more thing, Mr Parthy. You were there, at the medical unit when your grandfather passed, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Did he say anything?"

My mind drifted back to that dark day and my grandfather's final words _'Trust no-one. He'll try to be your friend, mislead you, but his only alliance is to the darkness.'_

"No." I lied. "Nothing."

"Right. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good-bye, sir."

And without another word, Minister Drake strolled quickly out of the unit.

As I watched the towering figure leave my home something caught my eye. A glint highlighted by the lights above; a shiny little sparkle off a device in Minister Drake's ear.

I closed the door behind him with a sense of relief. This feeling was rapidly sucked out of me the moment I realised I would have to tell Zeal.

Chapter Four

' **Tradition'**

Walking through the Forest of Lincoll alone wasn't recommended. There were safer routes to reach Danton, but the forest was far more direct.

Tall trees stretched up high above, with branches shooting off the main body spouting leaves that created dense shrubbery above. The light struggled to pierce the thick foliage, making the woodland feel dark and the undergrowth damp. If you moved quickly enough, you could be in an out of the forest in less than fifteen minutes, but moving too quickly would be reckless and draw attention.

I thought I was walking at a steady pace, being careful where I stepped so as not to cause too much noise. I was wrong.

I spotted the creature.

It'd been a while since I'd seen a Lag, and I'd forgotten their size. It was covered head to toe in a thick, almost impenetrable black fur. Two stumpy horns protruded from its flat forehead, and each of its feet consisted of three razor sharp claws. Its deep blue eyes didn't flicker or divert. Saliva dripped from a mouth that was crammed with flesh tearing teeth. It looked as repulsive as I remembered, and even from a distance, I could smell its lingering stench.

If there was one, there were likely to be more. They moved in packs, searching for their next meal, and this one clearly had its taste buds set on me.

I should have known better than to enter the forest alone.

Lags are the primary food supply for the village, and it was customary for the males to hunt and capture these creatures. Groups of us would partake in weekly pursuits in order to replenish the food supply. They have an interesting defensive mechanism when cornered. They release a vile smelling, toxic gas that could bring down the largest of hunters. I attend several of the expeditions, but usually found a quiet corner to hide and wait. I would re-join the group when the hunt was over, and then return with them to the village where our success would be cheered.

Lags are certainly dangerous and powerful, but with bulky bodies and short legs, they're slow moving creatures. My only chance at this point was to run.

I could just make out the edge of the forest. The Lag wouldn't venture beyond the confines of its home as it hadn't adjusted to the light, and the brightness would practically blind the creature.

I ran. So did the Lag.

I pushed my legs for more speed as the creature pounded towards me. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder to see the Lag dropping behind when a second Lag erupted from a bush to my right and rushed in my direction. I swerved to the left spotting a third creature joining the chase. I changed direction again, leaping over branches and fallen logs. I was moving quickly using my fright to drive my body forward, praying I wouldn't trip and fall.

I heard the Lag's howl as I burst out of the shrubbery and into the bright light of the field. My lungs ached with my heavy breathing.

The three creatures stood on the edge on the woodland, their bodies rising and falling with each exasperated breath, before turning and ambling back into the foliage. I decided next time I would take the long route.

I looked over the field at Danton. It held a lot of memories for me. I was born and raised in the quaint village for nearly two cycles.

It lay three 3 miles outside the city limits of Trans Central. The village was a small community comprising of twenty-seven family units set in the magnificent surroundings of Lincoll, unquestionably one of the most stunning areas in Valiros. It was a picturesque combination of trees, rolling hills and fertile farmland. Lincoll was a beautiful place to raise a family, work, retire, and eventually pass away. I couldn't wait to leave.

My father, Lowen Parthy, had been Mayor of Danton for two cycles. Sadly, he passed away six days before his fourth birth celebration. I was half a cycle old at the time and missed him desperately. The village secured its place in the history books by boasting the oldest living Valiron, who'd reached the grand old age of nine cycles; this became a talking point amongst neighbouring villages, and something of a tourist attraction for visiting dignitaries from the city.

My mother, Tabar Parthy, mysteriously disappeared nearly half a cycle earlier when visiting my grandfather in Trans Central. An investigation turned up no clues to her whereabouts, so it was added to the ever-growing list of Valiros mysteries.

Although I no longer had family living in Danton, I continued to visit my old stomping grounds. This wasn't due to some sense of nostalgia; it was partly due to my friend Benton, but mainly due to a young, irritating girl named Zeal Lotzer.

One of the most important of all our customs is the tradition of 'bonding'. The average Valirons life span is seven cycles; this rather limited existence gives very little time for finding, courting and ultimately bonding with a life partner. To ensure the couple has the best chance of a long and prosperous life together, all Valirons are coupled at birth. A prearranged partnership designed to ensure longevity. As with most traditions, this process is a complex matter. Firstly, all couples must be born within the same forty-eight hour time period, and come from the same or any neighbouring village within two miles. To guarantee a healthy gene pool, all families must relocate to an assigned village at least once every three cycles. The relocation orders are sent directly from The High Darlon Council. The village elders set the bonding date, and there is little room for negotiation.

This system is far from perfect, and there are children who are born outside the window of opportunity. These products of circumstance are not forgotten of course. True they will never be allowed to take a life partner, but they will still contribute to society. Once they're one and a half cycles old, they're drafted into the military. There is no war in Valiros, so their main purpose is to keep the peace, and prevent disruption by rogue groups, such as the Veils. I'd luckily avoided this fate; my friend Benton wasn't so fortunate.

I was partnered with a girl named Zeal Lotzer. As a child, I disliked her; as an adult, I detested her. Zeal was not my idea of the perfect life partner, but she did save me from a life of servitude under a military regime. I'm gentle, avoid confrontation, and, although frowned upon, indulge my vivid imagination. Zeal was beautiful but head strong. She was argumentative, rude, and like most Valirons, had no desire to explore the more creative side of her psyche. Over the cycles, I'd felt myself growing distant from Zeal; a small detail she appeared to be blissfully unaware of.

We were scheduled to be bonded in a ceremony that, by tradition, is always performed by the mother of the male. Now, since my mother had vanished off the face of the sphere, the bonding ceremony was postponed; much to my delight. The village elders held an emergency gathering to discuss the best course of action. It was decided that the duty of bonding the "loving" couple would fall to the eldest female in the village, the oldest person in our history. The joyous event was set to take place in one phase, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was tradition, and who was I to break with tradition? Just as with Minister Drake, I was backed into a corner unable to escape.

Following my perplexing encounter with the Public Representative, I decided to pay a visit to my future life partner and explain the situation. In truth, I was hoping this enforced career change would work to my advantage, forcing the ceremony to be postponed again.

I'd carefully planned it all out, and rehearsed it in my head. The conversation was going to go something like this...

" _Zeal, I have a new job with the High Darlon Council as an aid to Minister Drake. I'll be spending a great deal of time in the city. This job came completely out of the blue, but I couldn't turn it down."_

" _Oh Creyson Parthy"_ she would say, _"that's wonderful news. I'm so happy for you."_

" _But this means I'm not going to have the luxury of flitting back and forth from Trans Central to Danton._ _I'm worried that our time together would be so limited; it wouldn't be fair on you or me."_

" _And I love spending time with you."_

" _I know, and I wouldn't be able to give you the attention you deserve. I'm sure you'll agree this is not the time to embark on a lifelong relationship."_

" _I completely agree."_

" _I know you want to be involved in every aspect of my life, but that simply wouldn't be practical. I'm not saying we won't be bonded, that's what I want most in the world, but it may be best if we hold off for a while."_

" _I think that's a very wise and thought out decision."_

In my head this all sounded perfectly reasonable; in reality Zeal would not react in the understanding way I hoped. She would see it for exactly what it was, a string of pitiable excuses.

What she would most likely say is, _"Creyson Parthy, Don't be so stupid. It is perfectly plausible for you to bond with me while still embarking on your new occupation."_ This of course was true.

I was terrified of being forced into the military, I was terrified of the Trojan Devices, and from time to time, I was terrified of what the future had in store; but all these fears paled in comparison when I considered telling Zeal Lotzer the ceremony was off. I knew my future life partner was not going to respond well.

"Creyson Parthy!" The shrill voice tore through the air as I entered the boundaries of the village.

All my friends and colleagues called me Crey, Zeal insisted on using my full name whenever she addressed me; yet another irritation that grated against my very being.

She was standing thirty paces away, gripping a lethal dagger that she waved in the air like a hunter welcoming her prey. Zeal loved to hunt. She insisted on obtaining her own provisions. I once suggested she join the Lag hunting party in my place, her response was; _"I don't need an oversized male slowing me down."_

As I looked on at my future partner, I couldn't deny her beauty. Her shoulder length jet-black hair, piercing green eyes, button nose and shapely figure were certainly a pleasure to behold. It was curious that so much beauty could be tainted by the annoying girl inside.

Zeal ran across the field, a smile beaming on her face. She appeared genuinely pleased to see me. I was struck by a wave of guilt. Perhaps she wasn't so dreadful after all. That sentimentality didn't last long.

"Creyson Parthy, I didn't think you were ever coming back." Zeal always spoke slightly louder than necessary.

"Hello Zeal."

"You haven't been to Danton in days."

"I've been... busy." It was a pathetic defence, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I hope you haven't forgotten about our bonding ceremony," teased Zeal, poking me with the handle of the dagger.

"How could I forget?"

"One phase left to go. Isn't it exciting? Tell me you're excited. Go on, tell me."

"I'm excited," I said in an unexcitable tone.

"Me too. My mother has bought me the most beautiful dress. I don't like dresses very much, but it's still beautiful. Can you imagine me in a dress Creyson Parthy? Well can you?"

"No, I can't."

"Neither can I, but it is the most beautiful dress, and it is _the_ most important day in our lives. I have to look my best. Do you have an outfit?"

"Not yet."

"Well you better hurry up. Only one phase to go."

This playful banter was followed by a raucous laugh. She had the unfortunate habit of snorting when she became excited. I would have been embarrassed by this reflex action; Zeal of course, was not.

"Actually" I mumbled, "that's what I came to speak to you about."

"You'd rather wear the dress?"

"No. It's about the bonding ceremony."

"What about it?"

This was it, no going back. I knew what I wanted to say, I'd practised it in my head.

"Maybe we should sit down."

"Standing is fine. Get on with it."

I opened my mouth and said, "I'm afraid something's come up and I don't think it's going to be possible to..."

But before I had a chance to finish, Zeal's face changed. The smile was quickly replaced with a deep-set frown, and the hunter succeeded the beautiful girl, who had been so full of life. Suddenly I was frightfully aware of the dagger that was no longer being used as a method of joviality, and had instead become the lethal weapon it was always intended to be.

"Don't you dare Creyson Parthy," she spat viciously. "Something's come up? Sounds like the start of an excuse to me. If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't want to bond with me."

_I don't!_ I screamed in my head, but I dared not say it aloud. If I refused to bond with Zeal, I'd be disgraced, banished from the village and forced to join the military. I needed to think quickly.

"Of course I want to bond with you," I lied for the second time that day, "but I have a new job that..."

"Job? What job? I haven't heard about any job." Zeal also had the annoying tendency of interrupting people mid-sentence.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. Minister Drake came to see me today and..."

"The Public Representative?"

"That's right. He came to see me and he's offered me a job as..."

"Why would he offer you a job? What as?"

"He's offered me a job as an aid to the High Darlon Council, and..."

"An aid? Why would he offer you a job as an aid?"

"I'm not totally clear on that. I know it was my grandfather's position. I start tomorrow. I have no idea what the job entails or how long it's going to take."

She stared at me suspiciously, no doubt attempting to ascertain if I was indeed telling the truth.

"Okay, let's say I believe you, I still don't see what it has to do with our bonding ceremony."

This was not going to plan.

"It's going to be unlikely I'll be able to visit Danton for quite some time. You're probably not going to see much of me."

The frown faded, and the smile returned.

"Oh, I see where this is going."

"You do?"

"Of course. I understand completely."

"Ah Zeal, I'm so glad. You have no idea how worried I was to tell you."

"Don't be silly Creyson Parthy. You don't have to worry about not seeing me. I'll come with you," said Zeal, happily. This was not what I wanted to hear. _Think fast_ , I told myself.

"But... erm... my unit is so small, it wouldn't be practical." I'd lost any conviction in my voice, and this time Zeal knew I was making excuses. She sensed weakness and was ready to pounce like a hunter taking down a Lag.

"Now you listen to me Creyson Parthy," she said in a low, menacing tone. "You're going to be my life partner whether you like it or not. Now either you let me come with you, or I'll walk back into Danton and tell everybody you've broken with tradition and called off the bonding ceremony." She stepped closer so we were practically nose-to-nose. "And we both know what that means."

I was starting to wish I could release a toxic gas just like the Lags.

Thinking frantically for a way to resolve the situation, the overhead lights went out, plunging Danton, and the entire province of Lincoll, into sudden darkness.

Chapter Five

' **Order 6352'**

Once was an accident, possibly a mistake, but twice was a pattern.

I waited for the lights to power back-up; and I waited, and I waited some more. Nothing.

During my earlier experience, the failure had been isolated to a small field; I could still see light from the surrounding areas. This time the power loss covered a far greater expanse. In every direction, I could only see darkness.

I turned to look at Zeal, but she was no longer standing in front of me. I was hit by a surprising surge of concern.

"Zeal?" I shouted. There was no response.

I scanned the landscape and spotted her a few paces away sitting on the ground; her knees drawn up, arms locked around her legs, hunched, chin against her knees. She was shaking; I speculated it had nothing to do with the declining temperature, but to a primal fear of the darkness that had overwhelmed her.

I stood, astounded. To see the powerful hunter reduced to a hunkering, terrified bundle on the ground made my stomach ache. I may not have been overly fond of the girl, but I took no pleasure in seeing her this way. Observing her fear seemed to ease my own deeply rooted alarm. My nearly overwhelming concern for her well-being surpassed that of my own.

I made my way over and knelt down by her side.

"Zeal, are you okay?"

"What's happening?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"I'm not sure."

"This doesn't happen, Creyson Parthy. The lights don't just go out."

"It's probably nothing to worry about." I rubbed my hand up and down her back to calm her shivering. "Sometimes individual lights are powered down for maintenance."

"But never like this, and never without warning."

"Maybe it's a glitch. I bet you anything, the lights will be back on before you know it."

"I've got a bad feeling." She pulled her knees in tighter.

Standing in the darkness, I was reminded of stories I'd heard as a boy, tales of life before 'The Change'. My mother had told me how Valiros wasn't always the bright and dazzling place that it was today; our world was little more than a black pit of emptiness. As a result of this unremitting darkness, its population, my ancestors, had developed certain abilities allowing them to survive and function in complete obscurity. Although these abilities were no longer required, each Valiron still possessed them. Our skin radiates a faint red luminosity that enables others to see us. Our eyes can adjust to complete darkness, like a form of night vision, and other senses are also heightened; smell, sound and touch. During these dark times, Valiros was ruled by one simple rule; survival of the fittest.

Tre Broter Penn, considered a visionary and legend among my people, secured himself a place in the history books when he invented the first artificial light source over sixty cycles ago. He was a prodigy at only half a cycle old. It was a small circular light that could be held in the palm of your hand. The small light lasted less than three seconds, but it would pave the way for the colossal lights that, for reasons unknown, were presently not working. How Tre Broter Penn designed and constructed the first light is something of another mystery. He had not invented anything prior to his historic discovery, and nor did he invent anything after.

"We should head into the village," I suggested. "There may be something on the viewing terminals."

"If you say so."

I was finding her reaction to the darkness perplexing. Zeal was displaying a vulnerability that she'd worked so hard to conceal.

Clambering to her feet, she brushed grass and speckles of dirt from her clothes.

"Are you okay to walk?"

She looked at me and smiled, no arrogance, no aggression. "I'm fine." Zeal linked her arm in mine and we began to walk down the hillside. I had gone from being her prey to her protector.

As we approached Danton, we heard raised voices emanating from the village. Panic was sweeping the town. I heard cries of confusion and alarm. I knew these cries were not only a reaction to the sudden darkness; for the lights provided far more than just light, they supplied heat, and we could already feel the temperature starting to plummet. The lights also dispensed valuable nutrients vital for the survival of plant life. As a farming community, the plants and vegetation were a lifeline to the village. Without them, the crops would surely wilt, and that would spell the end of Danton.

"You hear them?" she asked.

"Yes."

"They don't know what's going on. Maybe it's not just the lights that have lost power, maybe it's everything. What can we do?" pleaded Zeal. I had no answer.

We stopped walking and remained still, unsure if we should continue, when a new sound began to replace the din of distress from the village.

For a moment, I thought Zeal was beginning to shake again but realised the deep rumble was vibrating through the ground.

"Is it the Trojans?" I mused.

"No," answered Zeal. "They're not due to activate for another twenty minutes. Besides, it's getting louder."

"I don't think it's getting louder, I think it's getting closer."

Zeal and l both began to skim the horizon, searching for the source of this strange sound. I focused my eyes on the distant hill and could make out a large, cumbersome vehicle ploughing towards us.

"Over there."

"What is it?" she asked, pulling away from me, her confidence returning. The vulnerability was being replaced by her usual self-reliance.

Zeal seemed to fear the dark; maybe because she couldn't fight it. This approaching vehicle, however, presented a physical adversary she could fight.

I knew what it was.

"I've seen one of those vehicles before."

"Where?"

"My grandfather used to take me on day trips; one of them was to the base of operations, just outside the city limits, on the border of Dorow."

"The wastelands?"

"That's right."

"So you're saying that it's..."

"It's the military."

I was uneasy, not due to their approach, but because of their swift appearance. I knew there was no way of traveling from Dorow to Danton in the short time since the lights had failed.

"How did they get here so quickly?" Zeal was as sharp as the blade she carried, arriving at the same conclusion as I had. "Unless they knew it was going to happen."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions."

A shiver ran down my spine for the second time that day. The notion that the military knew this was going to happen, but had failed to alert the general population, would open a can of worms that I felt should remain firmly sealed. I was pretty certain Zeal would harbour no such concerns.

The advancing vehicle was intimidating and powerful. Its large wheels made easy work of the rolling landscape and its solid metal frame appeared impenetrable. The machine looked combat ready; it made you wonder what sort of combat they were expecting.

"Do you think they have something to do with the lights?" Zeal's earlier fear had been all but obliterated. She was once again the head strong, confident girl I knew all too well.

"I don't see how."

The vehicle came to a halt a few paces away from us. We were frozen to the spot, our gaze transfixed on the military machine.

"What are they doing here?" She asked defensively.

The driver's door swung open.

"It looks like we're about to find out."

A large, heavy set soldier; at least one point six metres tall and probably the same in width, stepped out of the vehicle. He was dressed in a standard grey military uniform that was slightly padded ensuring extra protection. The insignia on his chest indicated his rank as a junior commander. His frame was solid; his face chiselled with a few days growth around his chin, his hair was shaven revealing a scar across the top of his head. If I were honest, I felt slightly inadequate in the presence of such a formidable combatant.

I leaned into Zeal. "Don't say anything to upset him."

"Why would I upset him?" she replied in a mock attempt at a sweet voice.

The soldier approached us, striding with such vigour we both stepped back in trepidation.

"I'm Junior Commander Fray Tork," he boomed. "Danton is now under military control." His voice matched his appearance, deep and powerful, generating instant control and demanding obedience to whomever he spoke. "You will vacate your homes immediately. My soldiers will transport you and the residents of Danton to the emergency evacuation sites."

I glanced at Zeal out of the corner of my eye, but her attention was focused on Commander Tork. I knew this was not going to end well. I followed the rules and did what I was told. Zeal, on the other hand, was not one to accept orders easily, especially from an _'oversized male'_.

Shoulders back, head held high, she marched towards the commander.

"Hello Junior Commander Fray Tork, my name is Zeal Lotzer. Care to explain what you think you're doing?" I cringed.

"I believe I just did."

"No, that was an instruction, not an explanation."

"I'm following orders."

"You can't come rolling over the hill and tell us to leave our homes."

Tork's face changed from unwavering conviction to slight shock. It appeared no-one had ever confronted him or questioned his orders before. The commander would have to re-establish his authority; if he wavered, Zeal would take him down.

"Order six three five two, says I can," responded Tork.

I prayed Zeal would let it go, accept his orders and abandon her home; but I knew she wasn't going without a fight.

"What does order six three five two mean? Hmmm? I've never heard of it."

This small, insolent girl questioning his orders was annoying the soldier.

His response was clear and precise. "Order six three five two. 'During any event that is deemed to be of a threatening nature, we are ordered to evacuate the appropriate area and place the affected zone under military control.'"

"The lights have gone out. Do you see anyone being threatened; apart from us by you, that is?"

While the altercation between Zeal and the Commander was transpiring I observed six more soldiers exiting the vehicle, each larger and more imposing than the last. There was a tension building in the air. If she weren't careful, Zeal was going to be dragged to a correctional facility for her disrespectful behaviour.

"Zeal," I said, keeping my tone calm as not to add to the already tense situation, "I think you should do what the commander says."

"I think you'll find it's _'Junior_ Commander _._ '" Her contempt was obvious and foolish.

I wasn't going to get through to her, so I turned my attention to Tork. "We're sorry about this. We were just..."

"No we're not sorry!"

"Zeal..."

"We're not going anywhere." Her defensive tone was a typical 'Zeal' reaction that I had learnt to tolerate; I doubted the military commander, junior or not, was going to be quite so understanding.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. You will be transported to an evacuation site immediately."

"You can keep saying it, doesn't mean we're going to do it. If you want to take Danton, you'll have to go through me."

"Step aside," he said with a threatening attitude, moving to push her out of the way.

Either by intent or instinct, Zeal raised her dagger and took a defensive posture. That was a mistake. Tork wasted no time in reacting to the threat and used a rather extraordinary offensive move. Gripping her wrist, he procured the dagger from Zeal's grip then flung her over his shoulder and slammed her to the ground. His lightening speed was impressive considering his size. Zeal floundered on the floor, her face red with fury.

"Take her away!" bellowed Tork to the other soldiers. Two stocky looking squaddies advanced towards her. Zeal was also quick to respond, leaping to her feet prepared to fight.

"Just you try it," she spat. This was crazy. I had to do something quickly. Without thinking, I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"She doesn't live in the village!" The soldiers stopped in their tracks uncertain if this confession made any difference to their commander's order. They stared at Tork awaiting his guidance. Thankfully Zeal didn't argue with my impulsive statement.

"Explain," said Tork, apparently doubting my claim. I was making it up as I went along; it was times like this I was thankful for my vivid imagination.

I continued, "My name is Creyson Parthy; I work for The Public Representative, Minister Drake. This is my life partner Zeal Lotzer, we were bonded today. I have a small unit just outside Trans Central, she lives there with me." Zeal appeared as surprised as I felt by my outburst.

There was an uncomfortable silence while the commanding officer pondered my sudden revelation. His gaze switched from Zeal back to me.

After a few moments, Tork spoke. "Minister Drake, you say?"

"Yes. I'm his new aid."

"Then I suggest you return to your unit and take her with you before she gets you both into trouble." I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

Zeal may have been stubborn, but she certainly wasn't stupid, she kept her mouth shut.

Tork turned to his men; with a simple nod of his head, the soldiers piled back into the vehicle. He gave Zeal and I one last look of scepticism before climbing into the driver's seat. The mighty machine rumbled to life and pulled away heading towards the village.

Zeal couldn't contain herself any longer. "We can't let them get away with this," she squealed.

"We don't have a choice." We both stood powerless, watching the vehicle manoeuvre its way down the hillside towards our home.

"I could have taken him," she boasted. I laughed aloud. She snapped her head and fixed me with a vicious glare.

"Sorry," I said.

"If you weren't such a coward, you could have backed me up."

"I just...Did you see them?"

"Look." Zeal pointed towards the other side of the village. Five more machines appeared on the skyline heading for Danton.

"This is wrong, Creyson Parthy."

"There's nothing we can do."

In a patronising tone, she asked, "So what happens now?"

I'd gone to Danton to tell Zeal I wouldn't be able to bond with her, but instead I found myself saying, "I suppose you come home with me."

She smiled happily.

Chapter Six

' **Snoring'**

I relaxed into my soft two-seat sofa, a thin sheet pulled up tight to my chin in an attempt to keep the cold at bay. I lay motionless staring at the plain white ceiling. I always find at night, when I'm alone with only my thoughts for company and no distractions, I ponder, usually in depth, my previous actions and choices. This night was no exception.

My head filled with unanswerable questions that continued to hinder my slumber. I was perturbed by my new job. What did it entail? Did Minister Drake have an ulterior motive? Then there were the overhead lights that had simply stopped working. I'd assumed it was only Lincoll that had been affected, but upon returning to my unit, I'd switched on the viewing terminal to discover that several areas within Valiros had also been affected by the power outage. What would cause such a failure? My mind then drifted to the mysterious and swift appearance of the military. Were they to blame? I had lied about my relationship with Zeal. I find it difficult to lie, and lying to the military was a risky game. What if I were found out? Would Tork appear at my door and drag me to a correctional facility? My mind was running wild with so many unwelcome thoughts keeping sleep away.

The journey from Danton back to my unit had been a tedious and grating trek. Zeal spent the entire trip ranting about her dislike for the military, and her personal feelings with regards to the High Darlon Council. She lectured me on the upper classes' disregard for the smaller communities living outside the city limits. She piled through a never-ending array of objections, aversions and dislikes on an equally never-ending array of topics; none of which meant a great deal to me. I truly believed the government cared for all its citizens regardless of their location. Zeal, of course, had a different perspective, and she made her sentiment clear.

"No, no, no," she barked, "I'm telling you, while Danton is sitting in darkness, its people being forcibly removed; the residents of Trans Central are relaxing in their nice, cosy homes with their lights blaring. They don't care what happens to us, as long as it doesn't affect their perfect lives."

I wasn't in the mood to debate the finer points of the Valiron pecking order. "Whatever you say."

"And what about Junior Commander Tork?" she continued.

"What about him?"

"I bet he knows more than he's letting on. He was hiding behind order six three five two. There's no reason for the armed forces to take military control of the area. What a joke. You can't tell me you're not the least bit suspicious."

It wasn't always what Zeal said; it was how she said it. I'd had similar debates with Benton, but there was something about her brashness that irked me. She was right, I was suspicious of the military presence in Danton, but I didn't want to fuel Zeal's paranoia.

"I'm sure the government know what they're doing."

"A government that neglects its people."

"It's not surprising they have their secrets, Zeal, but that's a far cry from government negligence."

"This is just another example of the High Darlon Council keeping us in the dark... only this time it's literal."

It was pointless to fight. "Look," I said, "Whatever happened to the lights was most likely an accident beyond anyone's control. The military was only there to help the local population relocate to a safer area." I'm not sure I believed my own words, and I was certain Zeal didn't.

"So why didn't they warn anyone, hmmm?" She questioned.

I was finding myself on the wrong side of this discussion. In reality, I agreed with Zeal, but I couldn't tell her that.

"Perhaps they were worried that alerting the public would have caused a panic."

"Panic or not, ignorance is never a good thing."

"It's not ignorance; it's the government deciding what we should know for our own benefit."

She mumbled an insult under her breath; thankfully I didn't hear what she said.

Throughout her entire outburst, I'd noticed she'd cleverly failed to mention that I'd saved her from imprisonment. To admit I'd rescued her from a situation beyond her control would have shown weakness on her part. She would never mention it, and I would never bring it up.

I spent the remainder of the journey in quiet contemplation, making sure to nod and agree at the right times to pacify my newly acquired 'life partner'.

I was thankful to be home, but this feeling didn't last long.

Upon returning to the unit, I discovered the front door was slightly ajar. I stood motionless staring at the entrance; trepidation slowly churning in my belly. Had I forgotten to lock it properly when I left? Normally I was extremely conscientious, but perhaps my mind had been distracted.

"Expecting guests?" asked Zeal.

"No, I'm not."

"Well you better get in there and have a look."

"Me?"

"What? You want to send a sweet, defenceless girl in there?"

"I'd hardly call you swe... defenceless."

"Fine. Get out of my way." She began to move towards the door.

"No. I'll do it."

She smirked. "My hero."

I pushed the door open, half expecting an intruder to leap from the darkness. Of course, there was no trespasser lurking in the darkness, no interloper waiting to accost me, but the anxiety I was feeling didn't dwindle.

"Well?" I heard Zeal shout out.

"Hang on."

I carefully checked each room in the unit, which didn't take long, but I found nothing out of place or missing.

I stepped back into the main living area when I felt something snap under my foot. I lifted my leg and looked at the sole of my shoe. Embedded in the tread was a small piece of wood. I picked it out and examined the slither of kindling. It seemed to have been chewed. Having cleaned the unit earlier that day, I knew it hadn't been there before. Perhaps Minister Drake had traipsed it in.

"Creyson Parthy?" Zeal hollered again.

"There's no-one here," I called back, slipping the piece of wood into my pocket.

Zeal stamped through the doorway, swinging the door so hard it bashed against the wall. "You need to be more careful. Anybody could have wandered in. I'm sure this won't happen now I'm living here."

She seemed to be under the impression that this cohabitation was a permanent arrangement. If anybody did break in, I hoped the only thing they'd take would be her.

The hour had got late and all I wanted to do was lay my head down and drift off to sleep. Zeal, as expected, managed to make even this most simple of desires difficult.

Striding into the cooking compartment, she began rattling pots and pans, occasionally complaining about the lack of food in my cupboards. I heard a cacophony of chopping, stirring and the occasional ping of a timer as she created a feast to satisfy her hunger. When she finally reappeared she carried a large tray of food stacked high with a bizarre concoction of dishes. I stared at the tray in astonishment.

"That's a lot of food for one person."

"If you want something to eat then make it yourself," she snarled, mistaking my disbelief for hunger.

Sitting in the chair previously occupied by the Minister, she consumed the meal with vigour. This was the first time since leaving Danton that Zeal had stopped talking. Hungry or not, I was thankful for the respite.

Once finished she dumped the tray on the floor and announced, "I'll be taking the sleeping compartment and you can sleep on the sofa."

I agreed to her terms, and she marched off to bed.

I spent the next hour cleaning up after my houseguest before grabbing a sheet from the storage cupboard and finally collapsing into a heap on the sofa.

Alone at last. I was certain Zeal couldn't possibly irritate me while she was sleeping; I was wrong. The peaceful silence was soon broken by Zeal's incessant snoring. I'd never heard anything like it. I was taken aback by her loud, infuriating snore that seemed to vibrate through the walls and penetrate into my skull. The thought of spending the rest of my life with Zeal was more than I could stomach. Grabbing the cushions from the armchair, I held them tight against my ears in an attempt to mask the deafening sound; to no avail. It felt like my home had been invaded by a hostile force bent on spoiling my good night's sleep. Add this to my jumble of unwanted thoughts; sleep was a luxury I wasn't going to be permitted.

I turned onto my side, then onto my back, then onto my other side, then onto my stomach, then onto my back again. After twenty minutes, I finally conceded defeat and sat up, perching on the edge of the sofa.

Tired and aggravated, each second felt like a minute, each minute felt like an hour. Eventually my impatience reached boiling point and I stomped around the unit making as much noise as possible. Acting like a spoiled child, I banged every door, open and closed cupboards, stamped hard with each step, hoping to wake the annoying creature who had commandeered my bed. I doubted anything would rouse the slumbering Zeal, but my little rebellion made me feel better. I walked through the cooking compartment, and left the unit mumbling some distasteful phrases of my own.

Entering my peaceful garden instantly alleviated my tension. It was refreshing to be outside. I inhaled the crisp air and allowed it to wash my frustrations away. The gentle hum of the overhead lights was soothing and their dim glow relaxing. Even through the walls of the unit I could still hear Zeal's faint snoring. No wonder her family were keen to get her bonded, they were probably longing for an uninterrupted night's sleep.

Taking a seat on the cold step, I looked out at my beautiful garden, savouring the pretty plants, flowers, and floppy fruit tree. It looked more striking than it had ever looked before.

I realised something was wrong.

My attention was drawn to the gaping hole in the centre of my small garden.

Scorch marks had killed the surrounding grass. For a moment, I doubted my own eyes. I sat in shock, my mouth open wide in bewilderment.

The Trojan Device was gone.

Chapter Seven

' **The Tram'**

Darkness can present itself in many forms. The failing lights caused the darkness in Danton, but there was another form of darkness infecting my world, one born out of fear. This form of darkness can be far more dangerous.

I sat in silence on the crowded express tram that would take me directly into Trans Central station.

Whenever possible, I avoided public transport; I especially loathed the tram as a mode of transportation. I'm not a snob; I basically dislike the hustle and bustle and commotion that it entails. Getting on the tram feels like a battle for survival, with people pushing to get onboard, fighting for a seat, elbows being rammed into your ribs. Once you are finally ready to go there are so many bodies pushed against you, you're packed in like tins of food shoved into a disorganized cupboard. Everybody is so desperate to get where they're going as quickly as possible, they lose all regard for others.

On this particular day, the journey turned out to be an altogether different experience.

The mood was sombre; the usual conversation of commuting business types replaced by an anxious stillness. The platform was remarkably calm and stress free, and on the tram itself everyone's attention was focused on the viewing terminals that were situated throughout the tightly packed carriage. These terminals were usually dedicated to presenting news bulletins to the business class who occupied the tram daily. Financial reports, company takeovers and government politics were top of the bill. These reports would be interjected by light-hearted stories intended to bring a smile to the traveller's face. Today's reports, on the other hand, were focused on one story only. The dominating headline and the cause of the uncomfortable atmosphere, was the mysterious disappearance of the Trojan Devices during the night.

"It seems impossible." The glamorous reporter gasped. "But we can confirm that over two thousand Trojan Devices have indeed vanished. Residents from more than eighteen villages awoke this morning to strange scorch marks and holes in the ground. Our on-site reporter is in the village of Lucor speaking to an eye witness."

The screen switched to a well-dressed female with big, curly hair standing next to a rather excitable eyewitness.

"Thank you Kaley. I'm here with Miss Trun who claims to have seen one of the Trojan Devices in mid-flight. Miss Trun, why don't you tell us what you saw?"

"Oh it was terrifying, like a ball of fire in the sky. It was so fast, but I knew it was a Trojan Device."

Miss Trun's dramatization caused a hushed whisper of anxiety to travel through the carriage.

"We have had hundreds of reports of Trojan Devices taking flight across Valiros," added the reporter.

Looking around the tram, I couldn't help but think how pointless our concern was. No-one knew what the Trojan Devices did or what purpose they served, so their sudden disappearance would have little or no impact on our daily lives; yet there we all were, genuinely alarmed about their desertion. I surmised that it was perhaps the mystery of their disappearance that caused concern and not the departure of the devices themselves.

Whenever I'm traveling on the tram I tend to avoid small talk. I'm not antisocial; I rather enjoy a stimulating conversation. What I abhor is chatting to people who I'll never see again about trivial information that serves no purpose; except in this instance to incite rumour and speculation. In situations like this, if I'm unable to form an opinion, then I'd rather say nothing at all. Unfortunately, I was sat next to a meddlesome Valiron who had no such reservations. His sharp suit and well-groomed hair suggested he was a business type, but his scuffed shoes and worn carrier bag indicated he wasn't quite as high profile as he was attempting to appear. More than likely he was an office hand or runner.

The Valiron, who introduced himself as Kron, fought his way into his seat, taking down several people who were targeting for the same pew.

As I feared, he insisted on discussing the recent turn of events.

"Did you hear that? A ball of fire in the sky; what could it mean? Where do you think the Trojan Devices are going?" I assumed the question had been rhetorical as Kron left no time for a response. "Do you think it could be part of a secret government plot?"

_And so the conspiracy theories begin_ , I thought.

Kron continued, "Who could have imagined something like this happening? Did you have a Trojan near your home? Is it missing?" I opened my mouth to answer, but Kron barely left space for a breath. "I had one outside my front door. I woke up this morning, and it had just vanished. Gone. Poof. Where are they going? I mean, what are the Trojans anyway? Do you know? I don't. Do you?"

I quickly realised he didn't want a conversation; he just wanted to air his anxiety. "Are you heading into the city? You're so lucky. I'd love to work in the city. Maybe one day."

Switching off, but ensuring to say "Hmmm" every now and then, I stared out of the window at the passing buildings. My lack of interest didn't deter Kron from continuing to express his concerns.

"Oh, did you hear about the lights? Over half the outer villages lost power. I hope my village doesn't lose power. Then again, we used to live in the dark, didn't we? I heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that the military appeared minutes after it happened. They've all been evacuated and sent to temporary compounds. What do you think that means? I'll tell you what I think it means." _Please don't,_ I thought _._ "I think it means..."

The tram came to a stop at one of the smaller stations on the outskirts of the city. "Oh, this is my stop."

"Good." I didn't mean to say it out loud. He looked at me with a questioning glance. I attempted to cover my impoliteness "... talking to you."

"Likewise," he said. "I hope you have a nice day." With a chipper smile, Kron stepped off the tram. I was relieved.

If my new friend had done anything, he'd made me think. The Trojans' disappearance, the power cuts, the military presence, my sudden job offer; could they all be connected? If the military did know about the lights that meant the High Darlon Council also knew; a council that Minister Drake was a part of. A picture was beginning to form; blurred and undefined, but a picture nevertheless. I felt like I had all the pieces of a jigsaw but wasn't sure how to put them together. I was a loyal citizen. I had a great deal of respect for my government and all that it stood for, but even I was beginning to question their motives. My imagination was racing when something else occurred to me. Two key events had taken place directly affecting the lives of countless Valirons, and yet no official statement had been released. No explanation. This led me to only one conclusion; the government were hiding the truth and had yet to come up with a lie that would satisfy the populace. I realised I'd moved from rational thought and had joined the ranks of the conspiracy theorists. Perhaps that's where I belonged.

The tram entered Broter Tunnel that connected the surrounding countryside to the capital. I would soon arrive at Trans Central station, giving me plenty of time to meet the Minister.

The seat next to me was quickly occupied by a stern female whose hard face and antagonistic body language scared me a little.

Bored of watching the same news report on the viewing terminal, and unwilling to partake in another idle conversation with the intimidating business lady, I opted to doze for the last leg of my journey. Following Zeal's morning routine, I needed the rest.

In order to perform her ritual stretching and morning exercises, she'd insisted on getting up ridiculously early. This on its own would have been fine if she hadn't bullied me into joining her.

As she barked orders, "Stretch! Lower! Feel the burn!" I could easily envision her as a drill sergeant in the military. Their loss.

"As a bonded couple," she spouted, "we will have to do this every morning." In that instant, my future flashed before my eyes; snoring through the night, stretching in the morning, debating all day, and the odd hunt for Lags thrown in for good measure.

Her reaction to the missing Trojan had been distinctly different to mine.

"I'm glad," she declared. "I hope they never come back. They're hideous things."

"Aren't you worried?"

"Worried about what? They don't do anything. I hope they've all gone. I hope I never see one of those ugly, hunks of metal again."

Following a meagre breakfast, that I prepared myself from the remaining food Zeal hadn't eaten the night before, I left for work.

Snuggling my head against the window, I closed my eyes hoping sleep would take me. I began to drift into a dreamless snooze when the tram juddered, then violently began a vicious and abrupt stop.

The carriage screeched against the track, the framework rattling like a child's toy. I was thrown forward, crashing my forehead into the seat in front. I heard the brakes kick in. The tram screamed against the metal track as it resisted the decrease in speed. Sparks flew up the window like a firework display.

My body followed the momentum of the tram, whipping backwards and smashing the back of my head against my headrest. A sharp pain shot down my spine and travelled into my legs.

The lady next to me was thrown from her seat, landing on the floor with a shriek.

The lights flickered; bags and personal items fell from the storage lockers above. I heard a gasp of shock travel through the carriage from its panic-stricken passengers. It all happened so quickly.

I focused my eyes to see people lying on the floor, others rubbing injured necks and heads; this was all accompanied by whispers of confusion and moans of pain. I offered a hand to the lady, but she refused my gesture and pulled herself to her feet. Climbing over the injured, she moved down the tram towards the exit. The tram had not yet reached Trans Central station. Staring out of the window, I was faced with the black walls of Broter Tunnel. Inside the atmosphere was rapidly moving from dismay to outright panic. People began to stand, the whispers replaced by cries of help.

It was practically unheard of for a tram to stop mid journey. All transportation systems into the capital were essential and, as a result, were vigorously maintained. This commitment was born out of a previous incident that took place nearly twelve cycles ago. The unfortunate outcome of that event led to the demise of more than eighty people.

A tram had crossed the link bridge from Dorow to Trans Central when a power failure caused the tram to stop. A previously undiscovered weakness in the bridge design caused the framework to buckle. After being stuck for more than nine hours, the track system collapsed under the weight. No-one survived. This tragedy remained well publicised, with a dedication ceremony each cycle. Every passenger onboard this tram would be aware of the story.

Less than a minute passed before three overzealous passengers, including the stern lady, attempted to force the doors open. I sat motionless watching their futile attempts. Magnetically sealed; I knew the doors wouldn't budge.

You could sense hostility building in the carriage. Arguments began to break out amongst the passengers; pointless spats that achieved nothing.

People were pushing to escape, frustration mixed with fear. Alarm was spreading like fire through the carriage, and I didn't want to get burnt. I chose to remain quiet, allow events to run their natural course.

Two loud pings blared from speakers built into the roof of the tram, and a nasally voice cracked over the public address system.

"Can I have your attention, please? We apologise for the delay in this service. We hope to be moving again shortly. We ask that all passengers remain calm while we attempt to rectify the problem."

This announcement instigated another surge of whispers.

A few minutes passed before a second jolt rocked the carriage. The people onboard gasped as the tram once again began moving, but not in the direction that we expected.

The tram was travelling backwards.

Chapter Eight

' **Detained'**

The doors glided open effortlessly, unlike the frightened passengers who surged from the carriage desperate to abandon the ill-fated tram. I sat in my seat, waiting for the initial rush to pass before finally making my way onto the platform.

I remained with the discombobulated crowd, uncertain what course of action to take. The only method of transport in and out of Trans Central was the tram network, without it, I had no way of entering the capital. Other passengers around me seemed to be debating the same issue.

"Hello," called a voice I recognised. I scanned the crowd to find Kron bounding towards me.

"Kron?"

"Oh, it's nice to see a familiar face." He spoke as if we were good friends. "What happened to the tram?" he asked.

"I don..."

"We're not allowed to leave the station. Every exit is blocked."

"Why are..."

"Are you hurt?" I found the question odd.

"Hurt?"

"Your neck."

I was still massaging it.

"Oh, erm... Just a bit of whiplash," It was my turn to ask a question. "Kron, why can't you leave the station?"

"I don't know. They keep stopping us. I've tried three times. How am I meant to get to work?

"I'm sure that...."

"Do you think we'll receive some kind of compensation?"

I humoured him, "Perhaps."

"I suppose you're not going to make it to Trans Central after all." There was a hint of worry in his voice that I found unusual considering he didn't know me.

"I'm sure they'll set up some other mode of transport." I was attempting to remain upbeat but gathering from Kron's facial expression my comment had not gone down well. He looked more than a little jumpy.

"But it won't get you there in time."

"In time for what?"

"Whatever it is you need to do. I'm sure you have to be there on time, don't you? People are expecting you to be there on time."

"Don't worry Kron. It'll be okay.

"It won't. One job, I have one job."

"I'm sure they won't sack you for being late, not considering the circumstances."

"Not that job, this one."

"Kron, what are you talking about?"

"I need to do something." He grabbed my wrist. "Let's go." He began pulling me away from the crowd.

"Wait!" He ignored my plea "Where are we going?"

"We're getting out of here." It seemed blind panic had taken over Kron's senses.

I continued to protest. "You said we couldn't get out."

He paused. "There's always a way, I just need to think."

I forcibly pulled my wrist free from his grip. A spark of suspicion ignited in my head and I started to doubt Kron's motives.

"Well I _think_ I'd rather stay here."

"But..." He glanced at the crowd, perhaps trying to decide whether he wanted to cause a scene. All I knew was that wherever he was trying to take me, I didn't want to go.

"Fine," he finally conceded. "Oh, he won't be happy, won't be happy at all," he said under his breath.

"What? Who won't be happy?"

"You can't stop it, Creyson; He'll make sure of it"

I took a step backwards.

"I never told you my name."

He didn't respond; instead he spun on the spot and ran away, disappearing into the crowd.

"Kron," I called, but he was gone.

I was tempted to chase after him, but Kron's speedy exit had drawn the prying eyes of fellow commuters who stared at me with curious suspicion. Not wanting to invite more attention; I opted to remain where I was.

The encounter with Kron had made me jittery. Finding a quiet bench away from the main congregation, I took a seat and waited for an official announcement.

I'd been so focused on the chaos of the crowd, and Kron's random appearance, I hadn't noticed the numerous military personnel situated around the station platform. When a situation of turmoil presents itself, you look to people of authority for support and guidance. These soldiers, however, appeared detached and unapproachable.

They carried intimidating weapons called Jolts. They're long black sticks with a silver metal ball at the end. These devices give an electrical charge that could bring down the largest of individuals; a continuous blast could be lethal. No doubt they were using these Jolts to enforce crowd control if the circumstance required. This was my second encounter with the military in less than a day, and that made me nervous.

Several people attempted to converse with the soldiers, seeking answers, but they were dismissed or simply ignored.

One soldier in particular stood out, another familiar face. You'd think that would have made me feel secure, but this face made me uneasy. Junior Commander Fray Tork. His neck stretched to its limit, he perused the crowd before locking his eyes on me.

My anxiety increased as the imposing soldier advanced towards my bench. I had nowhere to run, and I couldn't avoid the encounter.

"Creyson Parthy," announced Tork in an official, business-like manner, stopping less than two paces away.

"Hello Commander Tork." I responded apprehensively.

"Just the person I was looking for." He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. "Come with me, please."

Letting go, he began to walk away. I didn't move.

"Why?" I enquired.

He stopped and turned back to me. "Because I'm ordering you to."

I pride myself on my ability to read people, but reading Tork was exceptionally difficult. His expression remained blank, his eyes emotionless, and his body rigid.

"Today, Mr Parthy."

"But..."

Before I could question him further, he marched away. Like Kron, he was trying to get me out of the station, but I had more faith in a Junior Commander than a peculiar stranger with a hidden agenda.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I quickly followed, attempting to keep up with his rapid pace.

"Where are we going?" I sounded childish.

"My orders are to collect you from the station and escort you to a classified location." He glanced back at me. "Keep up please." I complied.

"How did you know I'd be here?"

"Surveillance footage showed you boarding the tram at Lincoll Station."

"You're watching me?"

He turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "We watch everyone, Mr Parthy."

In life, there are many things I want to do; I want to paint a world famous picture. I want to invent something amazing. I want to have a family. Being led away by the military to a classified location was not on the list. I'd done nothing wrong, I'd not committed any crime, yet I was being detained.

If my resolve had been stronger or if I'd maybe had some of Zeal's confidence, I would have questioned the order and demanded to know the reason for my detention. However, that wasn't me. I'm an upstanding citizen who follows orders and obeys the rules. If Tork wanted me to go with him, then that's what I would do.

The Commander made his way through the crowd towards the station exit. His presence was so imposing the throng of travellers parted before him. I couldn't deny the soldier was impressive. I trailed in his wake like a young Lag following its mother.

A citizen being escorted by a Junior Commander had not gone unnoticed by the passengers of the tram. They fell silent as they watched a single Valiron being led away. I passed Kron who looked on, not with an expression of suspicion, but more of apprehension; I doubted his anxiety was for my well-being.

We lived in uncertain times; distrust and speculation were rife. My story would spread across Valiros. I could see the news report, _'A young Valiron was detained by the military following an unlikely break down in the tram system.'_ People would conclude I was somehow responsible for the tram's failure; _'The sabotage attempt was thwarted by the brave military.'_ They would interview Kron, _'I knew something wasn't right,'_ he would say. _'Creyson Parthy was completely uninterested in idle conversation, and he seemed distracted.'_ Zeal would see the news report outlining my criminal act and she would refuse to bond with me. _"I will never bond with Creyson Parthy,"_ she would declare. The village elders would exile me from Danton. A judge would read my sentence, _"Creyson Parthy, you have been found guilty of criminal acts against the people of Valiros."_ I would live the remainder of my days in a correctional facility with hardened criminals who would bully me daily. This was all of course my own imagination. Yet I felt self-conscious and guilty of a crime of which I knew I was innocent.

Keeping my eyes on the ground, I followed Tork out of the station.

Although I had no idea where I was being taken, I was relieved to be outside, away from the accusing glances.

The tram had returned to a station in a small village called Lucor, home of Miss Trun and her eyewitness report. I'd visited the village with my mother a few weeks before she'd vanished. She was born in Lucor and had lived here for nearly two cycles before being relocated to Danton and bonded with my father.

I remembered the village being a colourful place, bustling with activity. Lucor was famous for its friendly residents and party atmosphere. The lanes were lined with cafes and restaurants; I remembered street sellers on every corner, and a joyous atmosphere that coursed through the village. But on this day there were no street sellers, no packed cafes, no laughter or joy. The streets were void of life, with the exception of the soldiers.

A bulky military vehicle, similar in design to the one Zeal and I had encountered the previous day, was parked outside the entrance to the station. Tork opened one of the doors and gestured me to get inside. I wanted to turn and run away; I wanted to be a face lost in the crowd.

"Mr Parthy," he stressed, his voice carrying an immense deal of authority, "please get in."

I couldn't read him, but I could read between the lines. What Tork actually said was, _'Get in the vehicle or we'll make you.'_

Even if I had been braver, I didn't stand a chance of escaping. If I tried, I'd more than likely have a Jolt plunged into my back and my unconscious body would be carried into the military vehicle. My options were limited to one. I obeyed Tork's command and entered the machine.

He slammed the door shut slightly harder than necessary. The loud bang made my nerves jump.

The vehicle was as unattractive on the inside as it was on the out. Two metal benches ran parallel to each other, designed slightly too narrow to be comfortable. The framework was welded together and appeared crude. No attempt had been made to hide the working parts of the machine, exposing bolts, chains and cogs. There were two circular windows either side of my bench. Each window was covered with a metal grate that allowed hardly any light to penetrate its interior. The vehicle was clearly not built with comfort in mind.

The driver's door swung open, and Tork took his place behind the controls. He flicked a switch and two metal plates dropped from the ceiling covering the windows completely. An internal red light flicked on above my head. Its dull glow offered little illumination.

"Get comfortable," said Tork with no hint of amusement.

"Do you know what happened to the tram?" I was unable to hide the apprehension in my voice.

"Technical difficulties" he said without hesitation. It was a standard answer when you didn't want to give the real reason. Tork was lying. 'Technical difficulties' was public relations jargon for, _'We don't want to tell you the truth.'_

Before I could say anything else, the machine rumbled to life, the engine causing the metal framework to vibrate. The heavy vehicle pulled away with so much acceleration the velocity pinned me to the back of my cold metal seat.

After a few moments, I spoke again. "Where are you taking me?"

"A classified location"

"Where is it?"

"If I told you that, it wouldn't be a classified location now, would it?"

"I suppose not."

A couple of minutes passed before he spoke again.

"How's your life partner?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Feisty girl, sort of annoying. Zeal, was it?"

"Oh her. Erm...yes, she's fine." My delayed response had given Tork all he needed.

"Ah. Told a little lie, did you?"

"I don't know if I'd call it a lie, more of an exaggeration."

"But she's not your life partner, is she?"

All bondings are recorded and logged. It would have been easy for Tork to confirm my bonded status, so lying further seemed futile. Biting my lip, I plumped for honesty. I wasn't sure how much trouble my confession would cause but considering I was already detained and being taken to a secret location, the risk seemed worth it for a clear conscience.

"I thought you were going to take her away."

"I was. You must really like her." His statement took me by surprise.

"I wouldn't go that far."

I heard him chuckle. "Who are you trying to fool?"

"Sir?"

"Lying to the military is serious business. You could have got yourself into a lot of trouble. You don't take that sort of risk for someone you don't have feelings for." His words gave me cause to pause.

"Like I said, it wasn't really a lie. We are due to be bonded, but things have taken a little longer than usual."

"Well you better do it soon; otherwise you may be spending a lot of time in a vehicle just like this one." If this was Tork's attempt at humour, I was not amused.

Not wanting to discuss my forced bonding, or potential military career further, I chose to keep quiet for the remainder of the journey.

After a brief silence, Tork suddenly spoke. "We have company."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we're being followed."

I looked through the dividing perspex shield between the front and rear compartments of the military machine. A small screen in the centre of the dashboard showed an image that must have been transmitted from a camera at the back of the vehicle.

The pursuer was a slick, black vehicle with silver windows and a body that was low to the ground. It looked like the sort of thing a villain would drive.

"How do you know they're following us?"

"They've been on our tail since the station. I've taken a few random turns to see if they'd follow."

The picture began to get bigger.

"Why are you zooming in?"

"I'm not zooming, they're getting closer. Hold on."

I scanned the compartment and took hold of a metal pipe running across the ceiling. The vehicle unexpectedly lurched to the right, followed by an increase in speed. I lost my grip on the pipe and banged into the dividing shield.

"I said hold on," Tork barked.

"I'm trying," I shouted back as I pulled myself back onto the bench.

We swerved again, this time to the left, and I heard the wheels skidding on the ground. With no windows, I had no idea what was happening.

"Uh-oh," Tork whispered.

"Uh-oh?"

"It's going to get a little bumpy," Tork warned

"What do you mean 'going to'?"

The entire vehicle pitched forward, and I felt the back lift off the ground then clang back onto the road.

"What was that?"

"They just rammed us."

"Who?"

"Whoever's after you."

"People are after me?"

"Really not the time for questions Mr Parthy."

I saw Tork jam the steering lever hard to the right, and we suddenly broke into a spin, turning at least one hundred and ninety degrees. My stomach flipped, and I felt bile gathering in my mouth. We stopped for an instant, before racing off again.

"Time to go off road."

We tilted to the right again, and I could feel the ground beneath us change from smooth to rugged.

I waited for a minute, catching my breath. "Is it over?"

"I think we lost them. You still in one piece?"

"Just about."

I was too distressed to speak. We spent the subsequent twenty minutes in silence. Every jolt and twist pulsated through the metal bench and travelled through my body. Pins and needles surged down my legs and into my feet. No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to get comfortable. My head knocked against the back panel with every bump, and I slid up and down the bench every time the vehicle took a bend slightly too quickly. No windows meant I had no idea where we were or even which direction we were travelling in. Eventually, and to my delight, we came to a halt.

"This is your stop, Mr Parthy."

I didn't move. "And where's that?"

"That classified location I was talking about."

"Why am I here?"

"All I know Mr Parthy is that a lot of important people want to talk to you."

"I'm nobody."

"Well from what I gather, you're the most important nobody in Valiros. Now get out."

I didn't want to open the door. I didn't want to see what fate awaited me beyond the relative safety of the military machine. This may not make sense, but I enjoy imagining the unknown but dislike the practicality of experiencing it. I guess you could say I wanted to discover new things, provided I knew what those new things were.

Tork stepped out of the vehicle then made his way around to my door. He swung it open, and the compartment was flooded with light. Having adjusted to the relative darkness of my accommodation the sudden influx of light burnt my eyes.

Tork's large frame was silhouetted against the bright artificial lighting. "I don't have all day," he said sternly. I was fearful, and for a moment, the Commander's demeanour changed.

"There's no need to be afraid." This flash of thoughtfulness was touching. I believed him.

I stepped out of the vehicle, squinting against the glare. Tork was not alone; another figure stood before me. It was yet another familiar face.

"Welcome Mr Parthy. Ready for your first day?" asked Minister Drake.

Chapter Nine

' **Dorow'**

Once my eyes had adjusted to the light I instantly recognised my whereabouts. The vast expanse of wasteland situated on the outer edges of Trans Central was unmistakable; Tork had brought me to Dorow.

Having visited the area before, I should have been prepared for its size and scale, but I was still taken aback by the immense space. The sandy coloured ground was rugged with boulders and rocks scattered across the surface. The lights in Dorow seemed brighter than anywhere else in Valiros, banishing all shadows, and making the landscape feel unrealistically uniform in colour.

In the distance, a large yawning cave, known as the Gateway Cavern, dominated the landscape. The gigantic fissure was strictly off limits, and as far as I was aware, had gone unexplored.

Normally I would have gazed on in amazement at the sheer magnitude of Dorow, but on this occasion there was a new spectacle to behold.

I looked in astonishment at a sight I can only describe as terrifying. Laid out before me were thousands of Trojan Devices.

A single solitary Trojan was menacing enough; en masse they were nerve jangling. They were set out in orderly rows of hundreds, stretching into the distance as far as the eye could see. I once described the Trojans as 'ugly pieces of equipment', but in this setting they seemed to possess an almost eerie elegance, and an uncanny resemblance to an army poised to attack. I held a deeply rooted fear of these devices, and this spectacle was not helping to alleviate those fears.

Minister Drake moved beside me, his grand height obscuring me in his shadow.

"Mr Parthy," Drake said, with no concern; only firmness designed to get my attention, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't avert my eyes from the Trojans. "I'm glad to see you. I trust Junior Commander Tork made your journey comfortable. "

"There was an incident which required a little bit of creative driving," explained the solider.

I was lost for words. "What's..." I felt like a child who had only basic verbal skills. "What... is all this?" was the only question I could form.

Once again Minister Drake processed my words before responding. "All in good time, Mr Parthy."

I shook my head, squeezed my eyes shut, opened them, then closed them again. I didn't trust my own senses, but every time I opened my eyes, the Trojans remained.

"Sir, I..."

"No time, Mr Parthy. We need to get moving," said Drake.

His statement clicked my brain into gear, and my mind was suddenly flooded with questions. They rolled off my tongue like water gushing from a tap.

"Why have you brought me here? What happened to the tram? Why are the Trojan Devices here? Why is the power failing? Why are you...?"

"Mr Parthy," the Minister snapped, bringing my interrogation to an abrupt end. "You're here because you have to be. As for the tram it was ordered to stop after the capital lost power. Trans Central is currently being evacuated."

I couldn't quite believe what I'd heard. Trans Central was far more than just a city; it was the centrepiece of Valiros. Without it, our beautiful and peaceful home would be plunged into hysteria. Whatever problems threatened the smaller communities, we took solace in knowing that Trans Central would remain a constant symbol of hope against adversity.

"I know the outer communities don't have back-up power systems, but Trans Central surely has back-ups, for back-ups, for back-ups."

"It does indeed."

"But if you're saying the power systems have failed in the capital that must mean something catastrophic has happened." I couldn't hide the shock in my voice.

"Catastrophic may be a slight overstatement. I prefer to think of it as an unfortunate incident that we're attempting to resolve."

"How is it possible? Sir, we're talking about _Trans Central!_ "

"I'm sure this news comes as a shock, but all will become clear."

"What about the High Darlon Council? Where are they if they're not in Trans Central?"

"All High Darlon Officials have been transferred to our secondary headquarters."

"So why are you wasting your time with me? Surely you have more important things to do than worry about your aid's first day."

"Actually, I said your 'official title' would be as my aid. This is where you and I are most needed."

"And what's my unofficial title?"

"We really must get moving," he said, ignoring my question completely.

In all my life, I had never been so outspoken, but it seemed to me that the very fabric of my world was unravelling, and the Minister's dismissive attitude and refusal to answer a direct question sparked something inside me. Maybe it was because I was tired and scared; maybe it was because my neck hurt, or maybe it was because I felt betrayed by people I had always defended; whatever it was caused an immense anger to stir in my belly.

"Nothing about this makes any sense. You stopped the tram; hurting countless people in the process. Then you detained me in full view of the public, which was more than a little humiliating. Commander Tork bundles me into a military vehicle with no reason or explanation, and transports me here in a high-speed chase. You show me thousands of Trojan Devices, and finish off by telling me the capital has been evacuated."

"A very concise account, Mr Parthy."

His flippant response only fuelled my rage. "And you do all this, but you won't even tell me why?" I shouted.

"Watch your tone Mr Parthy," warned Tork.

"It's quite alright Commander," Drake said smoothly. He turned his attention back to me. "I apologise for the means by which you were brought here, but I'm afraid time is of the essence."

"This is ridiculous."

"I can see how it may appear that way."

"What makes me so special? I'm nobody, all my life I've been nobody. I run errands, make coffee, file paperwork. What possible use could I be to you?" I'd forgotten who I was talking too, or I didn't care. I was on a roll, and there was no stopping me.

"Any explanation I give you at this time will be unbelievable."

"Try me." I sneered.

The Minister was not rising to my outburst. He remained calm and collective. "I need you to trust that we know what we're doing. I promise you, all will become clear."

"Why is it so hard for you to give me a straight answer? It's all lies and half-truths, riddles and misdirection."

My fury was becoming erratic and unfocused. I was no longer angry about simply the situation but also with Drake's demeanour. I realised out of the three of us, I was the only one who seemed to be aggravated, and strangely that made me even irater.

During my rather uncharacteristic aggressive bluster, Junior Commander Tork had taken a step closer. "Stay calm Mr Parthy."

I glared at him. "Calm? You want me to stay calm?" I wasn't going to back down.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed hard. "Yes. I want you to stay calm. Don't do anything you may regret."

Tork was treating me like a prisoner under guard rather than an aid to Minister Drake. I pulled away from him.

"Oh you're good soldier, follow orders." I was pushing my luck. My head was screaming _'stop talking'_ , but my ever-growing vehemence refused to quit. "It's easy to stay calm when you know what's going on. You're no better than the politicians who keep lying to us." My accusation was unfair, but in the heat of the moment it seemed perfectly reasonable.

Tork turned his attention to the threatening lines of devices laid out before us. "Believe it or not Mr Parthy, I know as much as you do."

"You didn't know the Trojans were here?"

"This is the first time I've seen them."

"I guess I'm not the only one who's being kept in the dark."

His eyes met the Minister's. "No, you're not."

I'm certain I heard a hint of annoyance in the Commander's voice. Finally, someone else was getting irritated.

"Commander," snapped Drake. He didn't seem to appreciate Tork's open confession. The Minister gave him a vicious look. If I could have put the look into words, it would have been _'shut up.'_

Tork averted his eyes. A loyal soldier follows orders. I was no soldier, so I pursued the matter for both of us.

"So how did the Trojans get here?" I asked.

The Minister looked again at Tork, visibly exasperated; then back to me. The lines in his brow grew deeper.

As if on cue, a cluster of Trojan Devices rocketed over our heads. The sound of their engines filled the air, passing quickly as they sped towards the thousands of Trojans already lined up in the wasteland. Miss Trun's eyewitness account had been movingly accurate; they did resemble balls of fire in the sky. I counted at least fifteen devices that landed gently on the ground adding to the mass of Trojans.

"They flew," Drake remarked. "Now we must get on."

The sudden, intense entrance of the Trojans caused my anger to evaporate and nervousness to take its place.

Drake and Tork locked eyes again. "Do you have anything else to add Junior Commander?"

We all knew what the response would be

"No sir," he reluctantly said.

My anger had fizzled out and I was slightly embarrassed by my behaviour. "I'm sorry Minister."

"There's no need to apologise. I understand your frustration."

"I guess it's been an emotional couple of days."

"I fear it may get worse before it gets better."

"Why?"

Drake was growing tired of my persistent questioning. "As I said, later Mr Parthy, later." His attention switched to Tork. "Commander."

"Sir?" was the quick official response. He was back in his place, back in control.

"We've had reports that several more of the outer villages will be losing power. Please assemble your men and evacuate the residents as quickly as possible."

More power cuts? At this rate, the whole of Valiros would be plunged back into darkness.

"What do I tell them, sir? The people want answers."

"Technical difficulties." And we all knew what that meant. "Just keep them calm. If all goes to plan we should have power restored within hours."

"And if you don't?" It was now Tork who was pushing his luck.

"That's not your concern. You have your orders."

"Yes sir."

Playing the good soldier, Tork turned and promptly climbed aboard the military machine. A second later the engine roared to life and it pulled away leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

As I watched the vehicle trundle off into the distance, I became acutely aware of how alone we actually were. No buildings, no people, no signs of civilisation at all; more importantly, no modes of transport out of the wasteland. The walk back to a habitable area would take at best, a day.

"Erm, Minister... How are we meant to get home?"

Drake placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry my small friend." This attempt at reassurance did little to alleviate my anxiety. "Shall we?" he said brightly before walking away from me in the direction of the Trojan Devices.

"Sir?" I called after him. "Where are you going?" I was no expert, and my sense of direction was sometimes unreliable, but I was certain the closest populated area was in the opposite direction.

"Come along Mr Parthy. There are some people eager to meet you."

I scanned the horizon. I knew there was a military base within Dorow, but I couldn't see it.

I had two choices; I either followed the Minister to places unknown or endeavoured to leave the region unaccompanied. The choice was easy. Moving as fast as my small legs would carry me, I chased after the Minister, whose enormous strides seem to cover three of my hurried steps.

We walked for a further fifteen minutes through the Trojan Devices. It was haunting, like stepping through an alien world occupied by machines. It didn't take long for my imagination to kick in. I envisioned the devices springing to life, chasing after me and encasing me in their cocoons of metal. That pesky fear was again taking over, and I was relieved when we arrived at a copious open plot of land beyond the devices.

The Minister came to a stop. "Here we are," he announced. I could see nothing of significance; only lifeless brown dirt.

"Erm, where exactly?"

With a smile, Drake pulled out a small silver box from the inside of his jacket pocket. In the centre of the box was a single red button.

"What's that?"

"This? This is a key."

"A key to where?"

"The answers you're looking for."

He pushed it.

The ground beneath our feet began to vibrate. I looked back at the Trojans assuming they had activated as normal, but the subtle vibration rapidly increased into an immense quake. This wasn't the Trojan Devices.

I misplaced my footing. With a powerful grip, Minister Drake clutched my arm, keeping me on balance.

"Careful Mr Parthy."

"What's happening?" I shouted over the racket. There was panic in my voice, and I didn't attempt to hide it. The Minister seemed unaffected.

"Watch," he shouted back.

The vibration gave way to a huge, thunderous roar. The ground in front of us began to split open, and the two halves began to separate like an apocalyptic event that threatened to swallow us both. The sound of grinding metal pierced my ears, and tons of dust was thrown into the air clouding my vision. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears. The Minister continued to hold tight, sending bolts of pain through my arm, which was the least of my concerns as I thought I was going to fall into the emerging abyss. Observing through squinting eyes, the two halves, that were revealing this monumental opening, slowed before clunking into place.

The dust began to settle like a hazy blanket covering the land. I opened my eyes fully; the remaining grit in the air stinging them and causing tears to run down my cheeks.

The open plot had transformed into a gaping hole in the ground with a staircase descending into the chasm. I couldn't see the bottom; only darkness. The void reminded me of stories I'd heard as a child; tales of 'Drans' the underworld, where my grandfather said _'unscrupulous Valirons met their fate.'_

"After you," said the Minister, gesturing to the newly formed cavity.

I was hesitant to move, alternating my glance between the staircase and the Minister. "You want me to go down there?"

"I can assure you," he continued, "it's perfectly safe."

I mustered every ounce of courage I could rally and slowly entered the hole. Each step was a personal battle of will as I approached the foreboding darkness. Minister Drake stayed close behind.

As I stepped ever deeper, I couldn't help but wonder what mysteries lay beyond the staircase.

Before the gloom had a chance to engulf me completely, I turned back to the Minister. "Sir... Please... Why am I here?"

A sympathetic smile crept across his face. "Because, Mr Parthy, you could very well be our last hope."

Chapter Ten

' **The Hub'**

The flight of stairs led to a long, narrow tunnel. Concealed lights, embedded in the smooth walls of the passageway, sprang to life as I stepped onto the glistening floor at the base of the staircase. The curved ceiling joined seamlessly to the silver walls that rounded into the mirrored floor. The reflective surfaces caused the light to bounce around the space giving it an almost magical appearance. At the far end of the corridor, I could make out a single metal door with a small blue control panel to its right. I could hear the gentle hum of electricity coursing through the walls and could feel its power pulsating under foot.

The Minister pressed the red button on 'The Key' and the previous roaring sound returned as the massive opening above us began to close. The deafening noise was even louder within the confines of this underground location. I leaned against the wall in an attempt to keep my balance, but found it difficult to get a grip on its silky surface. Light from the outside world slowly slipped away. The great opening closed with a final thud. The corridor now felt like a tomb sealing us inside for all time. Minister Drake paid little attention to the closure of the aperture.

"This way," Drake said, his voice echoing in the passageway. Stepping past me, he continued his journey down the corridor. With nowhere else to go, I had little choice but to follow him.

"What is this place?" I asked in a hushed tone, for fear my mere presence would be considered an invasion.

"This is the Valiros Centre of New Technology and Science. We call it 'The Hub'."

"Why's it underground?"

"Its existence is a highly guarded secret."

"And what do you do here?" Up until this day, I hadn't realised quite how inquisitive I was, but I couldn't help myself.

"Many things." The Minister paused. "It so happens it was on this exact site Broter Penn discovered the first light source."

"You mean invented," I corrected.

"I mean discovered," he said again.

The corridor seemed pointlessly long. There were no other doors or access points. I hadn't noticed initially, but the corridor was also on a slight incline taking us ever deeper underground.

Finally, we arrived at the large metal door. From what I could see there were no hinges or joins. The door appeared to almost bond to the surrounding wall as if it were welded shut. It was tall; conveniently the perfect height for Minister Drake. The panel to the right of the door was a flat square of glowing blue glass. There were no buttons to speak of.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready for what?"

Drake chuckled as he skimmed his hand over the small panel that instantly changed colour from blue to green.

I expected the door simply to open, glide to one side or perhaps be lifted into the ceiling; but instead it began to disappear. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but within seconds the door had completely faded away.

"How... how did you do that?"

"New technology and science Mr Parthy," said Drake, as if that would answer all my questions. "There are many wonders to be discovered here."

Beyond the vanishing door was a sizeable room. It looked as if someone had taken the corridor and expanded it to gigantic proportions. The room was dome shaped and had the same smooth walls and reflective floor as the corridor, with lighting that seemed to emanate from within the walls themselves. A second mezzanine level circled the control centre with a transparent floor and banister that made it look as if people were practically walking on air. The vast space was filled with scientists in white lab coats busily working, flitting from place to place in a cacophony of activity.

The room was adorned with various pieces of equipment consisting of monitors, dials and buttons all accompanied by flashing lights. Small viewing terminals were placed around the room displaying data for the scientists to read and analyse. In the centre of the room was a mammoth circular silver table, its surface covered with sheets of paper, files and folders. Surrounding the table were twelve uncomfortable looking high-backed metal chairs on wheels that would allow its dweller to roll to different points within the room. Each seat was occupied by a scientist, each of them busily speaking at the same time.

At the far end of the room was an enormous viewing terminal that dominated the entire wall. Information was constantly being displayed on the screen, changing every few seconds; statistics, images of Valiros and the Trojans, as well as names of villages, times and dates. There was also a list of names in the bottom left corner, names I knew all too well. They were the names of my family; my mother, grandfather, and at the very top; 'Creyson Parthy'.

To me the room looked like organised chaos. I wondered how they could achieve anything in such a hectic environment.

As I watched the commotion in the room, something struck me as odd. Several of the scientists matched Drake's height and slightly strange looking appearance. Each of them had the same peculiar device in their ear that I'd spotted on Minister Drake the previous day.

No-one paid much attention to the disappearing door or even acknowledged the arrival of Minister Drake.

"Welcome to The Hub," he said with an undoubted level of pride.

"This place is amazing."

"Come." The Minister strolled into the room. He was like a proud father showing off his newborn.

I looked back at the doorway. The metal door had reappeared. This technology was incredible and could easily be mistaken for magic.

As well as scientists there were also military personnel placed around the room. One of them looked slightly nervous and held the Jolt as if he were afraid of electrocuting himself. His uniform didn't fit properly, and he shuffled from one foot to the other. I'd recognise my friend anywhere.

"Benton." I jogged over. He looked relieved to see me.

"Crey, what are you doing here?"

"That's what I was going to ask you. Shouldn't you be in training?"

"After they collected me yesterday they said training was being suspended. They said all military personnel were on active duty then assigned me here. It's crazy, they gave me some other guy's uniform, shoved a Jolt in my hand and told me _'you're a soldier'_. I don't even know how to fire this thing."

"That's not crazy, it's stupid. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Only what I've overheard. People are scared Crey. The Trojan Devices are coming to Dorow, and the power is failing all over Valiros."

"What's the military involvement?"

"Our orders are to keep the peace, but we haven't been told what's going on."

"Why they won't tell us what's happening?"

"It's typical of the government, would you expect anything less? If they're not lying, then they're not saying anything at all."

"Have you heard anything else?"

"The Gateway Cavern has been mentioned a few times. The Scientists are really concerned about it."

"Have they said why?"

"Not exactly. A couple of them were talking about trying to seal it. And your name keeps getting thrown around."

"My name?"

"Yeah. 'Where's Creyson Parthy?' 'When's Creyson Parthy getting here?' I assumed you'd know more than I do."

"Afraid not."

"Do you know if Danton's been evacuated?"

"Yesterday."

"My family, are they.... are they safe?"

"I don't know, Benton."

"Mr Parthy," called Drake.

"Look, I better go back."

"It's good to see you Crey."

"You too. I'll speak to you later."

"Be careful."

"Try not to electrocute yourself with the Jolt."

"Funny."

I ran back over and stepped next to the Minister.

"A friend of yours?"

"We're from the same village. It's only his second day as a soldier."

"Minister Drake!" The high-pitched voice pierced above the bustle of activity. I searched for the source of the voice and spotted a somewhat preposterous looking scientist with large unkempt red hair, thick-rimmed glasses, odd matching shoes, and a rather mucky lab coat. The Valiron was a walking stereotype.

"Doctor Flon!" The Minister appeared pleased to see this madcap scientist.

I leaned into Drake and whispered, "You know him?"

"He's one of our greatest minds."

"Him?"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Mr Parthy."

The idiotically presented doctor stumbled his way over to us, bumping into people as he went, apologising each time.

Drake continued. "Doctor Flon is head of research and development here at The Hub. He works directly for the High Darlon Council."

"Head of research and development? Really?" I didn't mean to sound so surprised.

"He's what you'd call... unique," he said with a sly smile.

Flon came to an overly dramatic halt; arms waving in the air in an excessively exaggerated manner, a smile beaming on his face.

"Minister Drake," he exclaimed, enthusiastically offering his hand to the Minister. "It's so very good to see you, sir."

"Likewise." The Minister took his hand, and Flon shook it fervently. After a moment, his gaze switched to me.

"Ah, is this...?"

"Yes it is."

"Wonderful! Mr Creyson Parthy. I suspected you wouldn't get here." There was a familiar expression on his face that stirred a memory, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Drake proceeded with introductions "Mr Parthy, this is Doctor Cowry Flon. Doctor Flon, may I introduce Mr Creyson Parthy."

"It's an absolute pleasure," said the doctor grabbing my hand and shaking it with more heartiness than he did Minister Drake's. "An absolute pleasure," he repeated. I was speechless so I simply forced an uncomfortable smile.

"Say hello Mr Parthy," the Minister encouraged.

"Hello."

"Hello!" His voice hurt my ears. "Oh, whatever must you think? I apologise for my appearance, it's been quite a day."

"Any change?" asked the Minister, a business tone returning to his voice.

"Change?" asked Flon to himself. "Change! Yes, change! That's what I wanted to talk to you about." The Doctor still kept a firm grip on my hand. He looked at me with a wacky gaze. "You're hand! I'm sure you'd like it back."

"If you wouldn't mind," I said. I was beginning to find him quite amusing.

"Not at all." He thankfully released his grip. "Right, down to business." He paused, confusion spreading across his face. "What was I saying?" He directed his question to me.

"Erm... Change?" I warily answered.

"Change, yes of course. Thank you Creyson. Do you mind if I call you Creyson."

"Not at all."

He addressed the Minister. "We've lost power to over half of Valiros, and a further two hundred Trojan Devices have arrived in Dorow. The Trojans are currently at sixty-three percent power and rising."

"I see." The Minister was concerned but didn't look surprised by the report. "How about the Gateway Cavern? Can we seal it?"

"I've run the calculations and, although theoretically plausible, to obtain the resources required will simply take more time than we have." For a moment Minister Drake looked defeated. Flon continued in his upbeat manner "Let's hope Creyson; do you mind if I call you Creyson?" Flon asked me again.

I smiled. "Feel free."

"Let's hope Creyson can put an end to this. Can you Mr Parthy?"

I paused, looking at Drake then back to Flon. "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh. That's... unfortunate."

I felt as if I'd somehow let Flon down.

"What do all these people do here?"

"Oh, lots." He addressed the room. "You all do lots of things, don't you?" No-one answered. He turned back to me "Of course their attention is focused on the Trojan Devices at the moment. We can hopefully stop them from attacking."

"Attacking!" I repeated with a gulp.

"Mr Parthy has not yet been briefed about the situation." Drake quickly said.

Flon leaned into me as if delivering a piece of gossip. "Oh you're in for a treat. It's a fascinating story."

"Doctor Flon," Drake said, "why don't you ask security to escort Mr Parthy to the guest suite. I believe there's someone who would like to see him."

"Who would want to see me?" I pondered aloud. It was Flon who answered.

"Ooo, she's an irritating young girl who insists on moaning about absolutely everything. When I was questioning her she made some rather offensive comments about my appearance, and insisted on calling me Flob..."

"Thank you Doctor Flon." The Minister interjected. He appeared to have a great deal of patience with the doctor. "She claims to be your life partner. I believe her name is..."

I finished his sentence. "Zeal Lotzer."

Chapter Eleven

' **The Guest Suite'**

Two armed guards, who had no desire to engage in small talk, escorted me to the Guest Suite.

I was perplexed by Zeal's presence in The Hub. Minister Drake had been vague with his explanation, and I was keen to hear the reason for her being there.

The term 'Guest Suite' paints a picture of glamour and indulgence. I expected decadent decoration; layers of pillows and throws, the walls adorned with beautiful pictures set in extravagant frames; or even a modern, slick room that reflected the wondrous design of this marvellous complex. The Guest Suite in The Hub failed to live up to either depiction. It was far from the lap of luxury that its title implied.

It was a grey, windowless box that offered little comfort. A bunk bed was pushed up against a wall; two metal chairs, and a small table were situated in the middle of the room; on the wall hung a mirror that had a crack running down its centre. The suite was cold with a tinge of damp in the air. It bore a closer resemblance to a prison cell rather than a place for guests to relax. When they were building The Hub it appeared little attention was given to the guest accommodation.

On entering the room, I could instantly feel Zeal's discontent radiating from every pore of her body. She sat on one of the metal chairs; her uncomfortable surroundings doing little to help her already declining disposition. Her arms were folded, her face set in a deep scowl. She glared across the room at me remaining silent; waiting for the guards to leave. Zeal was many things but reserved was not one of them. She was clearly riled and eager to express her opinions. The guards turned to leave the room, part of me wanted the armed escort to remain, to protect me from the crazed girl sitting a few paces away. The door gently closed, the lock clicking in place. I noticed you couldn't open the door from the inside. There was no escape.

"Isn't this a surprise," she snarled.

"Hello Zeal." I cautiously said.

Her eyes bore down on me. "Hello Zeal? That's all you have to say? Hello Zeal?" She was wound so tight she was ready to snap.

"Erm... How are you?" It was a stupid question, but I wasn't sure what else to say.

"How am I?" I wished she would have stopped repeating everything I said. "Why don't I tell you?"

And so it began. I stood, immobile while she ranted about:-

Her treatment - "It was shocking!"

The appalling food - "Revolting!"

Her quarters - "Filthy and repugnant!"

Their host's manners - "Horrendous!"

Zeal was skilled at articulating her misgivings, whether they were welcome or not.

She paced the room, arms waving in the air for dramatic effect. During her entire outburst, she didn't once offer an explanation as to why she had been brought here, and I wasn't allowed a beat to ask.

I listened but remained unresponsive. I may have been in the room, but my mind drifted away. This stance did not go down well with the already enraged Zeal. Stopping mid-sentence, she once again glared at me. Her silence brought me crashing back into the room. If looks could kill, I wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Hello? Creyson Parthy, are you listening to me?"

"Yes... yes of course."

"Then say something," she demanded.

Finally, I had a chance to ask the only question that was on my mind. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" screeched Zeal. She was still repeating me. Her voice had moved higher in pitch, becoming increasingly painful to the ear. "What are _you_ doing here?"

I didn't want to be drawn into an argument.

"I asked first?"

"Don't be clever, Creyson Parthy," she spat. I reminded myself that not too long ago I was the one ranting, consumed by an anger that overruled my senses. She had just as much right to be enraged as I did.

"Please, just tell me." I pleaded.

Her face softened. She marched to the bunk and slumped onto the bed like a pouting child.

"Why don't you ask your friends?"

She was referring to the people who brought me here. The assumption that those people were my friends annoyed me.

"They're not my friends!" I barked back. I instantly regretted my defensive tone.

She stood. "Don't you dare get angry with me Creyson Parthy!" Zeal was itching for a fight, and I don't think she cared who with.

"Look, I'm sorry." I took a breath. "I just want to know, need to know, why you're here."

She ignored my question and slumped back on the bed.

"I know you're upset. Maybe if you talked about what happened, it might help."

"Upset doesn't even come close. You have no idea what kind of day I've had." Her voice cracked, and I was certain I saw a tear in her eye. This was the second time I'd seen her in a vulnerable state. I was learning that Zeal used her bravado as a means to hide her true emotions. This may have been an act to gain my sympathy, but still I felt melancholic. I moved to the bed and took a seat next to her.

"Then why don't you tell me," I said as soothingly as possible.

Zeal sniffled and looked up at me with her big, sad eyes. She really was beautiful.

"It's alright." I placed an arm around her, offering Zeal an affection I didn't believe I possessed. Perhaps Tork was right; perhaps I did like her more than I wanted to admit.

She began to sob on my chest. I found this sincere display of emotion incredibly... disturbing. Zeal was proud of her strength, determination and unflagging willpower. I had always considered these traits to be failings on her part, but I was learning they were something to be commended not ostracized. She would normally be embarrassed to show any weakness, but she cared enough for me to lower her defences. That notion touched me.

This close contact was new, awkward and uncomfortable. I sat in silence while I allowed her time to compose herself.

After a few minutes, I spoke. "Zeal, I don't want to fight with you. Just tell me what happened?"

"Well," she said, fighting the tears back, "After you went to work I was deciding what I would have for breakfast since you didn't make me anything before you left. Did you know you have absolutely no food in your cupboards?" The touching moment was passing, and the old Zeal was swiftly returning. I could have pointed out the reason I had no food was because she'd eaten it all, but this didn't seem like the time. She carried on with her account "I'd just decided to go out for food, when all of a sudden everything went dark."

"My unit lost power?"

"Not just _our_ unit," she said, emphasising the 'our' "Outside as well. It was just like Danton. Then without so much as a knock on the door, two brutish soldiers came bursting in. I was horrified, and demanded to know what they were doing. They told me the military had taken control of the area and that _I_ had to evacuate."

"What did you do?"

Zeal stood to re-enact the event. "I told them, I wasn't going anywhere, and if they tried to remove me by force then they'd live to regret it. I stood my ground and refused to budge."

Zeal had been known to exaggerate or at the very least embellish her accounts, so I was heedful to bear that in mind. I would have to sift through her tale of bravery to get to the facts.

"You should have seen me, Creyson Parthy. I was like a warrior ready to battle the oppressive military. I ordered _them_ to leave my unit immediately."

"You ordered the soldiers, really?"

"Are you questioning me Creyson Parthy?"

"No, no, not at all. Carry on."

She continued. "They said I didn't have a choice, and that the order to evacuate had come directly from the High Darlon Council. They said if I had any grievances I should take it up with them."

"A lot of areas have been evacuated, including Trans Central."

"The capital's been evacuated?"

"Earlier today. So what did you do after the soldiers said you didn't have a choice?"

"I played the only card I had left."

"Which was?"

"I told them about you."

I didn't like where this was going. "What exactly did you tell them?"

"I told them that you were my life partner and that you worked for the High Darlon Council."

"Zeal!" I yelled.

"I told them if they didn't leave then you would deal with them directly." She was apparently pleased with herself.

She was driving me crazy. "Firstly; I'm not your life partner, and secondly; I'm only an aid, a runner. What did you think I could do to the soldiers? Give them one lump of sugar in their coffee instead of two?!"

"You asked me what happened, didn't you?"

"Yes, but... I..." If I weren't careful Zeal would shut down altogether and plunge into one of her sulks. "You're right. I'm sorry. What happened next?"

"They said they knew exactly who you were, and that their commanding officer was on his way to Lucor Station to collect you."

"Tork."

"Ah, our Junior Commander."

"He's the one who brought me here."

"What's really weird is they said there was no record of our bonding..."

"Because we haven't been bonded!" My head was staring to hurt.

"Don't raise your voice to me. You're the one who lied in the first place."

"I was trying to save you from being arrested."

"I didn't need saving. Anyway, you didn't let me finish. It wasn't just the bonding they were talking about; the unit was listed as vacant.

"What?"

"Empty. Uninhabited. Unoccupied.

"I know what vacant means. It must have still been listed in my grandfather's name."

"I said it was ridiculous and there must have been some sort of mistake. But then they said there was also no record of you ever living in Danton or working for the High Darlon Council. According to the soldiers, Creyson Parthy doesn't exist, at least not on paper."

"That's rubbish!"

"Stop yelling at me."

She was causing my heart to beat frantically. I took a breath. "Sorry. What did they do then?"

"They began to search the unit. They went through drawers, cupboards, books, everything."

I remembered the open door when Zeal and I returned from Danton. I assumed I'd forgotten to lock it but maybe there had been an intruder, and maybe the intruder was after the same thing the military were. But what was it?

"Did they say what they were looking for?"

"Not to me. The next thing I know I'm being bundled into the back of a military vehicle. I didn't make it easy for them, let me tell you. Those soldiers didn't know what'd hit them. I struggled and kicked and landed a few good punches."

I was certain parts of Zeal's story were true, but the far-fetched nature of her tale suggested that she was once again embellishing it to enhance her bravery in adversity. More than likely she had objected, struggled slightly, but ultimately went with little resistance. Zeal was a skilled hunter and a reasonable fighter, but even she couldn't take on two highly trained members of the armed forces. I needed to pick the fact from fiction.

"We drove for hours." _An hour at the most,_ "And I wasn't the only one. There must have been at least twenty of us crammed in that little space." _I knew the vehicle could sit six, so I doubted they were crammed._ "We stopped at Lucor where everybody else got off, but I was told to stay onboard."

"Did they say why?"

"You tell me?" I had no answer. "We eventually arrived here, at Dorow. Then this huge hole opened up in the ground. I've never seen anything like it. It must have been a million paces wide!" _Forty at the most._

"It scared me too."

"I didn't say I was scared."

I humoured her. "Of course you weren't."

"And another thing; did you know all the missing Trojans are here?"

"I saw them."

"I started to ask questions, but they didn't like it one bit. They marched me into this cell..."

"Guest Suite." I corrected her.

"Does it look like a Guest Suite to you?" I had to agree with her there. "They marched me into this cell and locked the door behind me."

Zeal was noticeably insulted by her treatment, and with good reason. I was loath to agree with her, but being forced from your home, shoved into a military vehicle, and sealed in a cell without a word of explanation was unacceptable.

"Did they say anything else to you?"

"About ten minutes later a crazy scientist bursts into the room. Flob or something."

"Flon." Zeal didn't like being corrected.

"Another one of your friends?"

"They're not..." I stopped myself. "Carry on."

"Anyway, he looked ridiculous whoever he was. He began asking me about a code."

"A code for what?"

"That's what I said. Also he wanted to know if you'd told me anything about the Trojans. Then he got a call saying that Minister Drake had arrived, and he left. Twenty minutes later, you walk through the door."

I couldn't help but feel responsible for this chain of events that I'd instigated by implying she was my life partner. Zeal had now been unwittingly drawn into a state of affairs that neither of us understood. Standing in the Guest Suite, I made a promise to never to lie again.

"You're here because of me," I apologetically said.

"Oh, get over yourself. It's not all about you, Creyson Parthy."

I tried not to bite, but failed. "You have a better explanation?"

There came a knock on the chamber door.

"If that's them," said Zeal "Tell them, I want to speak to whoever's in charge." Any frailty in her voice had vanished.

"Just stay calm, okay?" I rose from the bed, and moved to the door. With no handle to open it, I called out, "Hello?"

The door swung open and Doctor Flon stood before me, more fanatical and dishevelled than earlier; if that's possible.

"Ah, Creyson! Do you mind if I call you Creyson?" Flon's voice was full of anticipation.

"Feel free."

"Marvellous. Are you finished?"

"Erm..." I looked back at Zeal.

"Excellent! I need you to come with me."

Zeal immediately stomped over, pushing me out of the way to confront the eccentric doctor.

"Listen Flob."

"Flon." I pointed out.

"Shut up." I did. "He's not going anywhere without me, do you understand?" Her hostility appeared to shock the doctor.

"Well, yes I understand, but I'm afraid that's not possible. You must remain here."

"Why?" she questioned.

"Because you simply have nothing we need." His voice was perky; not the reaction Zeal had hoped for.

She'd reached boiling point. "If you don't let me out of here I'll take those glasses off your head and shove them right up your..."

I stepped in. "It's okay, Zeal. Look, you stay here and I'll find out what's going on." This only fuelled her rage.

"Ah! Taking his side are you?"

"I'm not taking sides, I'm..."

"No! It's fine! Go! Leave me all alone. Go on!"

"Zeal," I pleaded.

She stamped back to the bed and slumped onto the hard mattress; arms folded, lips pouting.

I kept my temper in check. "I'll speak to the Minister about letting you out."

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor. "Oh, are you still here? I thought you'd abandoned me." She was in full sulking mode.

"Time's ticking, Creyson," prattled Flon in an inappropriately excitable tone.

It was pointless trying to reconcile with Zeal. The best course of action was to leave her alone to calm down. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Okay?"

She huffed and turned her face away. I walked out of the 'Guest Suite' giving Zeal one last compassionate glance then closed the door behind me.

As the door began to swing shut, unknown to me at the time, Zeal leaped from the bed and prevented the latch from catching.

The hunter was loose.

Chapter Twelve

' **A Trojan Keeper'**

Flon led me through an endless maze of passageways. The vastness of The Hub was astounding. We passed one doorway after another, several staircases, and lifts that were in constant use. Scientists and guards walked by offering a welcoming nod, and Flon acknowledged them with a wholehearted "Hello!"

Every corridor appeared identical to the last; slick but characterless. I imagined it would be extremely easy to get turned around; if I'd been alone I could have been lost for cycles.

I wasn't convinced Flon had the best sense of direction. He constantly second-guessed himself at every junction. He often retraced our steps, and we ended up back where we started. He kept mumbling _"Which way was it?"_ And, _"I'm certain this is the right place."_ And, _"Definitely this way."_

Throughout our journey Doctor Flon gibbered on about the construction of this massive complex that was buried beneath the Dorow wasteland.

"The Hub took over two thousand Valirons and nearly three cycles to build," he boasted. According to the eccentric scientist, the compound was constructed over sixty cycles ago.

"Around the same time as 'The Change'." I noted.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose it was. Ooh, this way." He was quick to change the subject.

We turned down yet another nondescript corridor. "The Hub houses twenty-two laboratories, nineteen food stores, three medical bays, and is capable of accommodating up to four thousand evacuees in nine communal dormitories, if the need arises."

"What sort of need'?"

"I suppose a disaster of some kind."

"And who decides who stays and who doesn't?"

"That would fall to the High Darlon Council." I found his answer unsettling. "The upper classes would of course take priority"

"And what about the outer communities?"

"Most likely they would partake in a lottery of some form."

"That doesn't seem very fair."

"Unfortunately that's the society we've created."

This line of questioning was making the doctor uncomfortable, so he returned to talking about The Hub.

"The entire complex is underground and covers nearly three miles."

This place was larger than I originally thought. Without an external view to gauge its magnitude, the scale and grandeur of this development was almost unimaginable.

The doctor continued to ramble through an array of statistics and trivia. "We attempt to recycle everything, including," he coughed, "Waste. Also areas not in use are powered down to conserve energy. There are three hundred and twenty two scientists and military personnel who work in The Hub; they also reside here on semi cycle rotations."

"How long have you been here?"

"I was born here. The Hub is the only home I've known." He seemed a little sad.

"Do you ever leave?"

"When the opportunity arises. I enjoy the odd trip to the Capital, and I have several friends scattered throughout Valiros. My son works in a village on the edge of the city."

If Flon had lived in this complex his entire life no wonder he was a little odd. The Hub was impressive, but with no character or soul, it was hardly an inspirational place to live. I was beginning to understand him.

He babbled on. "The Hub also doubles as the High Darlon Council's emergency bunker."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "The High Darlon Council? Are they here now?" I asked.

"Are they here? Erm... Yes... I believe they are." Flon was flustered. "Why don't I tell you about the ventilation system? It's quite fascinating..."

As Flon flew into a detailed description of the air filtration system, I allowed my mind to wonder. I began to examine the events of the past two days. I wanted to piece the clues together and form a solid picture of what was happening.

My grandfather's position within the council must have been more significant than just an aid to Minister Drake. Whatever his role, his passing had thrown the government into disarray. Then there were his strange words that I accredited to old age the day he died.

One phase later and I'm offered his position, a position I was clearly not qualified for. At this point I could safely assume it was a pretence to something else.

Zeal's aggressive capture and subsequent questioning regarding this mysterious code was once again linked to me. The soldiers searched my home, which would suggest the first intruder was part of a separate faction.

The soldiers claimed to have no record of my existence. Who would erase me, and why?

The Trojans arriving in Dorow and the power loss that covered over half of Valiros must be connected somehow.

Finally, there was Kron. Who was he? Who did he work for?

I thought summarising the details would help clear things up, but all it served to do was confuse me even more. It was all very peculiar.

I felt like I had all the answers if only I were able to ask the right questions.

"...and that's how the air filtration system works," Flon concluded. "Any questions?"

Not wanting to appear rude, I looked at the doctor with phony amazement. "None." I was winging it. "It all seems quite straight forward."

"Really?" questioned Flon. "I thought it was quite complex."

Busted. "You're right, it is... erm... but you made it sound so simple." I smiled nervously hoping the zany scientist wouldn't notice my deceit. So much for my promise never to lie again.

"Thank you Creyson. I'm usually accused of over complicating things."

"You don't say." My sarcasm wasn't very subtle.

"It's true. Minister Drake says I'm prone to waffling."

He came to a stop at another intersection. He was lost. "Left or right?"

"Do you know where you're going?"

"Most of the time. Left." He began walking down another corridor. "This way." I dubiously followed.

At the end of the passageway, we arrived at Flon's laboratory. Two guards stood on duty, both blank faced, staring forward.

I looked at the empty frame before me. "No door?" I enquired

"Ah, yes. Minister Drake had it removed after I accidentally locked myself in my laboratory."

"You locked yourself in?"

"I was sealed inside for two days before someone found me." I couldn't help but giggle; Flon didn't seem to mind.

"Didn't it occur to you to call for help?"

"It was nice to have some time to catch up with work. After you."

The lab was a mishmash of items both old and new. Technical equipment, similar to that in the control centre, filled the chamber. Along with the hi-tech pieces of equipment, there was also a scattering of dated furniture, all of which had seen better days. An old, well used sofa, a wooden desk that was chipped and scratched, and several bookshelves that were ready to fall apart.

This was Flon's personal domain and reflected his disorganised mind. Hundreds of books adorned the walls and floor, clutter was dotted throughout the space, including mugs, plates, items of clothing, and food wrappers. Piles of folders and scraps of paper covered the surfaces and chair tops.

Although the room was a large space, it felt enclosed and difficult to manoeuvre. Minister Drake stood in the middle of the chaos awaiting our arrival.

"Finally," he sighed. "Doctor Flon, time is something of a commodity at the moment."

"Yes. We took a few wrong turns." Flon didn't sound remotely apologetic and Drake didn't look even a little surprised.

"Doctor, how on Valiros do you work in all this mess?" asked Drake picking up a pile of files from the floor.

"Everything has a place, Minister," responded Flon with obvious embarrassment.

"I assume this is Mr Parthy?" said a raspy voice from behind me.

I turned back to the doorway to be confronted by a new arrival. He was at least seven if not eight cycles old. He had a head full of thin, grey hair, deep set wrinkles over his face, and thin tight lips that appeared dried and cracked. His meagre frame and pale skin suggested he was not in the best of health. His shoulders were hunched, his head remained bowed to the ground, and he looked under his heavy eyebrows with a vicious gaze. The leery stranger made me feel uneasy.

"That's correct," confirmed Drake.

"Come Gorn, say hello," called Flon while taking the pile of files from the Minister and dumping them back on the floor.

The figure stepped into the room.

"Mr Parthy," said Drake "May I introduce Mr Hagget Gorn"

I forced a welcoming smile, but the stranger just stared as if appraising my worthiness. "It's nice to meet you." I said. Still Gorn remained motionless. I looked at Drake for guidance.

"Forgive Mr Gorn," apologised the Minister "His social graces are somewhat..."

"Lacking," Gorn finished.

"Mr Gorn is a Trojan Keeper."

My eyes widened. I'd never met a Trojan Keeper before; no-one I knew had. Considering the strange affairs currently taking place with the Trojan Devices, it made sense that a Trojan Keeper would be present. He was certainly daunting, but if anyone knew what was happening to the Trojans, it would be Mr Hagget Gorn.

"It's an honour to meet you, sir."

"Any luck with the girl?" he asked gravely, blanking me.

Drake shook his head. "I told you she wouldn't know anything."

"We had to be certain."

This was my chance. "Actually Minister, I wanted to talk to you about Zeal." Gorn glared at me. "I wondered if it would be possible, if it isn't too much trouble that is, to let her go."

"Let her go to where?" teased Gorn.

"Mr Parthy, believe me when I say The Hub is the safest place for your life partner right now." The Minister turned to Flon. "Doctor Flon, if you would be so kind."

A glazed expression washed over the doctor's face. "Kind of what?" was his baffled response.

Drake massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. It had obviously been a very long day. "The File, Doctor Flon. The File."

"Oh. Yes. The File. Right away."

The Minister's request caused Flon to jump into action. I recognised the look on his face, it was the same one I'd seen when he was escorting me to the lab; bewilderment.

Skipping around the room, Flon began his search for the elusive file.

"I thought you said everything has a place?" Drake commented in a self-satisfying tone.

"It does. It does indeed," he said while throwing sheets of paper in the air; tossing books and files to one side. "I just don't always know where those places are."

"What's the progress of the Trojans?" asked Gorn. He was direct and to the point. Clearly not in the mood for Flon's antics.

"Oh... erm. At the last check, they were at seventy-two percent. Plenty of time."

"I suppose that depends on how you interrupt time. Minister, I suggest we speed this up."

Drake nodded. "Mr Parthy. Please, if you can find a seat, sit down." I moved to a stool next to one of the messy worktops and cleared a jumble of items stacked on its top. I took the seat.

"Mr Gorn?" Drake gestured to another stool.

Gorn raised a hand. "I prefer to stand."

"As you wish."

"Ah-ha!" rejoiced Flon holding a small dossier in his hand. He ran the file over to Drake, a smile beaming across his face. "The file as requested!"

"Thank you, Doctor." The Minister took the file from the delighted scientist.

"Do you mind if I stay?"

"By all means."

Drake joined me at the worktop and placed the file down gently.

A female voice unexpectedly echoed around the room. The disembodied voice seemed to emanate from all around us. "Control centre to Minister Drake."

Drake spoke to the air. "Go ahead."

If I hadn't been faced with gaping holes opening beneath my feet, disappearing doors, and a huge secret complex underground, this method of communication may have amazed me.

"We have a communique from Junior Commander Tork, sir."

"Patch him through to Doctor Flon's Laboratory."

"Yes sir."

One of the monitors activated. The image was fuzzy, phasing in and out and breaking up with vertical lines of static. I could just make out Tork's face.

"Sir can... me. Repeat... can... hear me...."

"Say again commander," urged Drake. The screen became white with snowy static. "Doctor Flon, can you boost the signal?"

The doctor was taping some buttons on a keyboard. "Already on it."

The image of Tork reappeared, clearer this time.

"Can you hear me?" asked Tork.

"Yes commander, we can hear you."

Tork was at one of the evacuation sites. I didn't recognise the location. Behind him tall fences were holding back crowds of Valirons, some pushing against the barrier others sitting calmly. The lighting kept fading up and down, and you could hear shouting in the background but the words were indiscernible.

"Sir, several riots have broken out in the evacuation sites. Also our emergency generators are losing power. We're attempting to keep everyone contained but we've had another one hundred people arrive from four more villages."

"Commander, do you think it would be possible to transfer some of the evacuees to The Hub?"

"I only have nine vehicles with power and nearly four thousand people to transport."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to divert additional power to the generators. Also I'm requesting more military personnel as quickly as possible."

"Understood. I'll have another unit deployed immediately."

"Thank you, sir."

"Also commander, all senior military officers are dealing with the evacuation of Trans Central. I want you to report to The Hub so you can coordinate military response for the outer communities from here."

"Yes, sir. Tork out."

The screen went black.

Drake spoke to the air again. "Control centre, come in."

"Control centre here."

"Please deploy another military unit to Commander Tork's location, and transfer any excess power to the evacuation site's emergency generators."

"Acknowledged."

I struggled to make sense of what I'd seen. This wasn't my world. Watching the commander's report was more reminiscent of my imagination than real life.

Drake moved away from the monitor and back to me.

"As I'm aware, Mr Parthy, you have a lot of questions."

"To be honest sir, I have so many questions I don't even know where to start."

"Then let's see if we can answer some of those for you."

I shuffled in my seat in anticipation.

"I must warn you, what you are about to hear is one of Valiros' most guarded secrets. Very few are privy to this information. Once I tell you the truth... well, let's just say you can't put the genie back in the bottle."

I didn't know what a genie was, and even less sure as to what bottle we would be unable to return it too.

"I understand," although I didn't at all. I wanted to know the truth, but I was wary of what that truth would mean; of how much would it change my life.

"Very well." Drake paused. He looked at Gorn for final approval and with a simple nod of the Keeper's head, he received it. He then returned his gaze to me. "Firstly let me start off by telling you; I am not Valiron."

I was speechless for a moment. I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly.

"I'm sorry? If you're not Valiron, sir, then what are you?"

There was a lengthy pause before the Minister finally answered. "We call ourselves... human."

Chapter Thirteen

' **The Truth'**

Human?

The Minister stared at me as if gauging my reaction to his revelation. The word meant nothing to me; I'd never heard of a 'human'. I wondered if these humans lived in some undisclosed region within the sphere. I wasn't widely travelled, so I surmised it was entirely plausible for an entire civilisation to exist beyond the borders of my homeland without my knowledge. I needed to say something.

"I'm sorry sir, forgive my ignorance, but I don't know what a 'human' is."

"I wouldn't expect you to," responded Drake. "Perhaps it would be best if I started from the beginning."

I perched on the edge of the wooden stool in anticipation of Drake's tale when Gorn's voice barked from across the room. "You're wasting time Drake. Get the code... before it's too late." The annoyance and desperation in the Trojan Keeper's intonation was clear.

The Minister refused to rise to Gorn's aggressive posturing. "In due course, Mr Gorn."

"The fate of both our worlds hangs in the balance."

"I'm fully aware of the situation, thank you."

This brief confrontation was followed by a tense silence; a battle of wills. It was Gorn who conceded. "Just get it done."

Drake paced up and down the messy Lab. I waited patiently.

"The war, Minister," urged Flon. "I think that would be a fine place to start."

I may not have recognised the word human, but the word war was universal.

"War?" I asked.

Drake glared at Flon. "Thank you, Doctor Flon. I can handle this."

"Of course. Yes. Carry on. Sorry sir."

The Minister took a deep breath then began his tale. "My home is a... complicated place, with many cultures living side by side, each with their own laws and beliefs. Over seventy cycles ago these differences plunged my world into a terrible war that threatened to tear it apart. During the conflict many lives were lost, resources were drained, and the population as a whole suffered. Finding new technologies and methods of defence became a priority. World Governments set about developing new weapons, computer systems, and methods to infiltrate other countries."

"Countries?" Another new word I failed to grasp.

It was Flon who answered. "Places where humans live. Like our outer communities only much, much larger." If Drake was displeased by Flon's interruption, he didn't show it.

"During the course of the battle technology in my world took massive leaps forward. These new inventions, however, required masses of power to maintain them. A group of scientists were assigned the task of finding new power supplies. After months of searching they believed they'd finally found an almost limitless power source that would guarantee us victory."

"That isn't all they found," interjected Gorn, bitterly.

"No, it wasn't." The Minister sounded almost ashamed.

I was finding the saga fascinating. It was incredible to learn of a new race with a history that was entwined with our own. It filled me with a childlike excitement and fuelled my imagination.

"Where is your world, sir?"

"A long way away from here... and yet you could say, extremely close."

That sounded more like a riddle than an answer. "And what's it called?"

"Earth."

The unfamiliar words were piling up. "Will you tell me about it?" I implored.

Gorn slammed a fist on the worktop. "This isn't a bedtime story, boy."

"Mr Gorn!" roared Drake, silencing the Trojan Keeper. The resentment in Gorn's eyes was fierce, but the Minister wasn't going to back down. After a moment, Gorn averted his gaze.

"I apologise for Mr Gorn's outburst. Now where was I?"

"Earth," I reminded him.

"Ah Yes. The majority of my world is covered with vast areas of water known as oceans. Due to their sheer depth, many of these oceans have gone unexplored. In one of our deepest oceans, a craft know as a submarine, was seriously damaged in an attack. It plummeted to the ocean floor; all hands aboard were sadly lost. They did however, manage to transmit a short data stream back to the surface. The readings indicated a large fissure, a sort of hole on the ocean bed. Our interest was peaked. We sent a team to investigate further and they discovered faint power readings, like nothing we'd seen before."

I was captivated. "What was causing them?"

"We didn't know; the fissure was too immense. The only way to find out what was causing the readings was to send a team into the hole. A group of scientists, accompanied by a military task force, were sent to explore this newly discovered crevice; their mission, to find and evaluate the potential use of this new power supply."

"Incredible."

"It took them months, enormous resources and, regrettably several lives. But eventually they reached the end of their journey."

"And what did they find?"

"A new domain buried deep within the surface of our world. New resources, new energy supplies...."

Gorn butted in. "None of which belonged to them."

"This is our world as much as it is yours Mr Gorn." The constant backchat from the Trojan Keeper was beginning to take its toll on Drake.

"You found Valiros?"

"Yes."

Gorn was agitated. "You should have stayed where you were. All of this is only happening because of what you did."

"Because of what we did? The Trojans were not our making, Mr Gorn."

"Maybe not by your design, but certainly by your actions."

"There's sufficient blame for both sides."

"Perhaps you should continue your story, Minister," recommended Flon with a chipper smile on his face. Drake nodded.

"The war was not going well, and surrender was becoming a very real possibility. We needed an edge, an advantage; your world provided it."

"So they invaded," bit Gorn.

"Your people were more than happy to make the deal Mr Gorn." Drake had gone from aggravated to defensive.

I was in the middle of an argument that had been transpiring for a very long time. I suspected that Minister Drake and Mr Gorn would never see eye to eye.

Drake opened the file to the first page and slid the document towards me.

The words on the page were written in a language I didn't recognise. There were a collection of pictures and diagrams accompanying the alien words. One particular picture caught my eye. It was two circles, one significantly larger than the other, with the smaller circle situated in the centre.

He pointed at the smaller circle. "This is Valiros."

"And the larger circle?"

"Earth."

"You're outside the sphere."

"In the centre of my world is a large ball of liquid that we call the outer core, in the centre of that is a small metal sphere, the inner core. We always believed it to be solid, a composition of an iron-nickel alloy. What you call Valiros, we call the centre of the Earth."

Flon's excitement was growing and he was unable to restrain his enthusiasm any further. With an animation that only the chaotic doctor could pull off, he took over the presentation.

"The location of this complex was not chosen haphazardly. The fissure was nearly four thousand miles deep and led the human research team here, to Dorow. They entered Valiros through the Gateway Cavern."

Drake turned the page on the file, and I was faced with more foreign words and a picture, this time of one of the greatest Valirons who ever lived, Tre Broter Penn; creator of the first light source.

"When we arrived here your people were living in complete darkness. True you had adapted to the environment developing certain abilities, but this state of never-ending night had seriously hindered your development."

"On a technological level," added Flon.

"And socially," said Drake

Gorn huffed. The Minister ignored him. "As a race you were aggressive; understandably so, attempting to survive in a hostile world."

"We only have your people's word for that." Gorn's bitterness was beginning to annoy me.

"Broter Penn was the first Valiron we made contact with. You must understand you had no government, no head of state. As a result he became our primary contact. With the use of human translators, we managed to establish a trade agreement. We would help your people create methods to light your world, teach you building techniques, and in return you would allow us full access to excavate the resources of Valiros."

My entire history was unravelling. "So it wasn't Tre Broter Penn who created the first light source. You did."

"We gave your people the tools and knowledge, but it was your own ingenuity that created your civilisation. From what I've been told, it was astonishing. Your world developed at such a remarkable rate, far quicker than we could have ever imagined. Within seven cycles not only had you constructed massive lights that scaled the entire surface of the sphere, but you'd also created a mighty city, villages, an economic system, a political network. Your technology began to surpass that of our own."

"You instigated 'The Change'."

"We did."

"So why the secrecy? Why were we never told about any of this?"

"Fear," said Gorn.

"Mr Gorn's description is crude but accurate. Knowledge of a civilisation living above you; a race in the grip of war would incite panic. Your government made the decision to cover up our intervention."

I understood the reasoning, but I doubted that a lie, even one spoken with the best of intentions, could be a good thing.

"What does this have to do with what's happening now?"

"Unfortunately, as with most developing civilisations, you also developed mistrust. Many of your government officials, like Mr Gorn, saw us as invaders, sent here to plunder your world."

"And did you?" I couldn't deny that Mr Gorn's argument may have held some merit.

"Answer the boy," snarled Gorn. He appeared pleased with my question.

"We maintained our end of the deal... but yes, many of my people were blinded by what your world offered. Several cycles after the war was over, the High Darlon Council asked us to vacate Valiros, but my leaders refused to leave. We'd grown dependent on your world. After nearly a cycle, all diplomatic relations between our peoples had collapsed. Your government felt they had no choice but to strike back with force. They constructed an army of weapons, a deadly armada that would be capable of wiping out my entire culture."

The pieces started falling into place. "They built the Trojans."

"The irony is that we gave your people the knowledge to build the very weapons that were going to destroy us. Earth had barely recovered from its own war; we were in no state to fight another. We conceded. We would stop mining the resources of Valiros, and the High Darlon Council would call off the attack. It was agreed that a small delegation of humans, like myself, would remain in Valiros as liaisons between our worlds."

"But my government still didn't trust you."

"Distrust is hard to shake. The High Darlon Council chose to leave the devices on permanent guard, situated at various points throughout Valiros. Six times, every day, they would activate and scan for new orders. If none were given then they would power down."

"So what's changed? Why, sixty cycles later, are the Trojan Devices coming here, to Dorow?"

"Because they've received orders. Dorow is the location of the fissure that will lead them to my world."

"They're preparing to attack?" The idea that the High Darlon Council had declared war on another world was beyond insane. "Why would we do that?" I directed my question to Gorn.

"We have nothing to do with it," he retorted.

"Your government claims to have no knowledge of sending the order."

"So what does that mean?"

Flon stepped forward, the smile finally wiped from his face. "It means someone else transmitted the order to attack."

"And you don't know who it was?"

"We don't," Flon answered. "Only high government officials, a few scientists, and certain high ranking military personnel can transmit the order. The three of us in this room happen to fall into that rather elite group."

"But why? What would this person achieve by destroying Earth?"

"Earth may not be their focal target," grumbled Gorn. "The Trojan Keepers believe there is a greater purpose to this plan. We just don't know what it is."

"And this all has something to do with me?"

Drake and Gorn exchanged a glance.

"Mr Gorn, why don't you tell Mr Parthy why he's here."

"Only one person has the code to power down the Trojan Devices," he said in a low, menacing tone. "The Head of the Trojan Keepers."

"So why hasn't he done it?" I asked.

"Because he's dead. The Head of the Trojan Keepers was Talsen Trent. Your grandfather."

Chapter Fourteen

' **Control Centre'**

Standing in the control centre of The Hub I felt utterly useless; like a piece of furniture you no longer want but don't have the heart to throw away. This world was unfamiliar to me, a world of government secrets, deadly weapons, and new civilisations. The structure of Valiros was fabricated on top of a conspiracy of lies, making it almost impossible to find the truth buried under the foundations of deceit.

I had no solution to this disaster that threatened two worlds; what they wanted, I simply didn't have.

I was ignored while scientists raced around me from one control panel to another, some speaking in Valiron, others in an alien tongue that I didn't recognise. The room was bursting with anxiety. The air had grown heavy with tension, and the weight of it was debilitating. All the people in the room were focused on their jobs; following any orders given with quick precision. I envied their focus and wished I had some incentive to direct my own dread that was growing exponentially.

Back in Flon's laboratory, I'd been dumbfounded following the revelation about my grandfather.

"Why didn't my grandfather tell me?"

"Secrecy, Mr Parthy," It was becoming difficult to tell a secret from a lie. "The identities of the Trojan Keepers are classified. They maintain the most lethal weapons ever constructed. If their cover were to be exposed it would make them targets to rogue groups both Valiron and Human."

"Like the Veils." I remarked.

"And The Order of Darkness," added Flon.

"I've never heard of 'The Order of Darkness'."

"They have no bearing on our current situation. I suggest we save that conversation for another day." Drake quickly interjected.

My mind was a muddle.

Gorn stepped towards me. "As you can see Mr Parthy, you've inherited far more than a charming one bedroomed unit on the edge of the city."

His statement raised my suspicion. "You've been to my unit?"

"Of course not, why would I?"

I knew he was lying. I didn't want to push the issue, and there was a far more pertinent question to ask, one mystery that eluded me.

"Does all this have anything to do with the disappearance of my mother?"

The group seemed reluctant to answer my question, and there was sadness in Drake's eyes. I still clung to the hope that we would be reunited; the question I needed to ask next could have potentially destroyed that hope.

"Is she dead?"

"No." Drake was quick to answer. "We believe your mother is very much alive."

I should have been overjoyed, but instead I felt wounded. My family had abandoned me by death or desertion; I'd been left to face the world alone. All those times I'd dreamt of finding my mother, imagining what had happened to her, and now I was being told she was alive.

"Why hasn't she tried to find me? Why hasn't she contacted me?"

"She can't. Your mother..." Gorn paused. "Your mother plays a different role. In many ways, she's just as important as you are."

I wanted to know more. I needed answers, but before I had a chance to ask more questions, the female voice resounded around the room.

"Control centre to Doctor Flon."

"Yes. Hello."

"Doctor, the Trojans have tapped into The Hub's power systems. The devices are currently at ninety percent capacity."

It was Drake who answered the disembodied voice. "We're on our way."

"Understood. Control centre out." The Minister addressed Flon. "I thought you said we had more time?"

"It appears I miscalculated."

"Recalculate. If they've started drawing power from The Hub, best estimate, how long do you think we have?"

"Hmmm. Estimate? Basing it on the amount of power The Hub generates, and taking into account the Trojan's current power demands... Twenty minutes, maybe a little more."

I didn't think it was possible for Drake's face to turn any greyer than his natural skin colour, and I was right, it was no longer grey, his face had turned completely white.

"We need to get to the control centre. Mr Parthy, I suggest you accompany us."

The pair made a quick exit, wasting no time in racing their way out of the laboratory. I followed as requested.

In my haste to leave, I tripped over a small bin and stumbled. My hip collided with the edge of Flon's desk. I yelped as a small framed picture tumbled to the floor cracking the glass.

"Clumsy boy," accused Gorn.

Picking the frame up, I began to place it back on the desk; while skimming the image. I stopped and brought the photo closer to my face. Staring back at me were a collection of faces, but one specifically stood out, making my rocky world even more unstable.

"What are you waiting for boy?" he rasped, slipping a small piece of wood between his lips and chewing its end.

I didn't know what to say. Did I trust Gorn enough to tell him? I believed _he had_ been to my unit, leaving behind his discarded, chomped twig. Trojan Keeper or not, I couldn't figure out if he was an ally or an enemy.

I could have been wrong, but if this picture meant what I thought it meant then the situation had become a great deal more treacherous. I had to tell Minister Drake first.

"Nothing. Sorry."

I replaced the picture on the desk and hastily left the lab, with the Trojan Keeper heading up the rear. I would have preferred to have Hagget in front of me rather than behind. My grandfather had told me to trust no-one, and with lies and deceit practically ricocheting off the walls, that felt like good advice.

When we arrived at the control centre Gorn found a quiet spot and remained silent; watching events play out.

Immediately it became apparent to me that the situation had dramatically deteriorated. The busy vibe I had felt upon arriving at The Hub had been replaced by a nervous urgency that coursed through the room.

A sudden deafening blast made everyone gasp.

The floor trembled under our feet, and equipment around the room shuddered. The bustling conversation ended as we all reached for anything to stable ourselves. The sounds of metal clanking, and rubble tumbling echoed through the walls, and you could feel the vibrations shuddering through your body. Everyone in the room froze as if time had stopped.

"What was that?" gasped Drake.

"It felt like an explosion," deduced Flon.

"Confirmed," said one of the scientists. "Internal scanners show an explosion was detected in the link corridor."

Drake and Flon both ran to the vanishing door. The Minister swiped his hand over the glowing glass, and the door began to disappear, revealing the devastation behind.

The smooth walls of the corridor were charred black, and the reflective floor was covered in debris from the collapsing ceiling. Lights flickered, flames smouldered gently, sparks erupted from exposed cables, and smoke filled the air. The hatch to the Dorow wasteland looked as if someone had punched a hole through its centre causing the metal to buckle outward in a jagged, twisted opening. A large chunk of the ceiling had fallen on a diagonal at the far end of the passageway, blocking entry to the opening.

The heavy door leading to the corridor managed to protect the control centre from the blast, but access to the outside world via the passage would be impossible.

"Was anyone hurt?" called Drake to no-one in particular.

"No injuries have been reported," came the response from somewhere within the control centre. "The corridor was empty."

The Minister seemed relieved as he pulled Flon to one side. I tucked in behind them.

"Flon, what would cause this?"

"There was nothing within the corridor that would cause an explosion of this magnitude."

"Something caused it."

"Clearly, but until I do an investigation I have no idea what it was."

"Take a guess."

"I would _guess_ that someone planted an explosive device in the corridor; most likely to prevent anyone from leaving The Hub. But that's just a guess."

I edged myself closer creating a small huddle. "Why would someone want to stop us from leaving?"

"We can debate their reasons later," muttered Drake. "For now we have more pressing matters to contend with."

The pair separated, and I subtly followed after Drake, trying to remain out of earshot of others in the room. I wasn't even sure I could trust him, but I needed to tell someone about my discovery.

"Sir..." I whispered.

"Not now Mr Parthy,"

"But sir, I need to speak with you. It's rather urgent."

He huffed. "Is it to do with the code?"

"Well no, but..."

"Then later, Mr Parthy." His words were final.

He walked away from me, pacing further into the room. He had no reason to listen to me. He was a Minister with a Trojan Keeper, the Head of Research and Development, the military, and a room full of scientists at his disposal; whereas I was as useful to the Minister as an empty cooking compartment was to Zeal.

Flon set back to work. "Any change to the Trojans?" he urgently asked a young scientist sitting at one of the control stations.

"They're at ninety-one percent and rising, Doctor," was the alarmed response. "They've started draining our main generator."

"Counter measures?"

"We've powered down the lower levels and redirected power to all key systems."

"Very good." He sounded as if he were congratulating a child who had taken their first steps.

"Doctor Flon," I called. "Why are the Trojans draining our power?"

"Because that's what they were designed to do."

"So that's why Valiros is losing power."

"Very good Mr Parthy," applauded Flon without even taking a beat from his work to acknowledge me.

When it came to computers, the wacky scientist was like a skilled craftsman. His hands glided over the control panels with elegance and grace.

Remnants of smoke that had bled into the control centre from the devastated corridor made Gorn cough as he spoke, "The devices are assigned to different areas to prevent them drawing their entire power from one place."

"We created a weapon that would cripple our own power supply? Why would we build something like that?" My question sounded more sarcastic than curious.

"They were never meant to affect Valiros, at least not to this extent," growled Gorn.

I was getting the strong impression the Trojan Keeper didn't like me much; that was fine, I didn't like him much either. "Whoever sent the order to attack also reprogrammed them; increased their power demands."

"And this... traitor, managed to reprogram them without your knowledge?"

Gorn's face reddened. "What are you suggesting?"

"I just want to understand how they could get away with it."

Drake cut in before our discussion had a chance to spiral into a slanging match of accusations. "We don't have time for a science lesson, Mr Parthy. Flon, there must be a way we can disconnect the Trojans from the main power supply?" Even during this stressful situation Drake's slow, sluggish dialogue refused to speed up.

"Minister, Minister, Minister," spluttered Flon. "The Trojans were built to drain power; it's the essence of their design. You see, they're not _connected_ to the power supply."

"Which means?"

"Which means there's nothing to disconnect them from."

I put my hand up like a child at school. "Surely they have to be connected to something."

"Well, yes and no... hmmm, I guess it's time for that science lesson after all." Flon leaped to one of the control panels and began punching buttons. The main viewing terminal sprang to life showing a detailed schematic of a Trojan Device.

"The Trojans were built to destroy Earth. They attack in four stages. Mr Gorn, care to explain what those stages are?"

Gorn kept his gaze on the viewing terminal. "Stage one – they use the power from Valiros to launch. Stage two - they position themselves at key areas around the Minister's planet, knocking out all communication systems. Stage three - they drain all the power from the targeted area. Stage four - once each target is powerless, and the Trojans are fully charged, they detonate."

"The Trojans are bombs?!" I was horrified.

Gorn grinned. "A single Trojan could destroy Trans Central and most of the surrounding area." He seemed almost proud.

"And there are over six thousand devices ready to launch." Flon happily pointed out with the same gusto as he described the ventilation system.

"Have your people been made aware?" Gorn asked Drake.

"Evacuation procedures have been implemented, but we're still predicting human losses to be in the billions."

"Now," Flon acted like Drake's statement was a trivial matter. "It was vital that during stages one and three the devices didn't fail in drawing the energy they needed. Each Trojan is fitted with a receiver, but instead of receiving data, it receives power. Normally the devices would only require a quarter of the power they're currently demanding from us."

"Just enough power to get them there," I concluded.

"Exactly. They would use the energy from Earth to reach full capacity once at the surface. Our rather ingenious programmer has, in essence, switched stages one and three."

"They're draining all the power from Valiros before they launch."

"Mr Parthy you've grasped the science quicker than most." Within Flon's compliment was a hidden taunt aimed at the others in the room. "You see the problem we have, is that the devices don't have to be physically connected to anything. As long as there's power, they'll drain it."

"So you can't stop them?" My understanding was leading to a fear that was overriding my etiquette.

"We've attempted to block the Trojans' receivers, but they're highly adaptable. The way I see it, there are only two ways to prevent the Trojans from reaching full power and launching. One, deactivate every power source in Valiros..."

"Then do it," boomed a deep voice. We all turned to see Junior Commander Fray Tork standing at one of the doorways. His uniform was dishevelled, dirt smeared across his face, his features irate.

"Commander," called Drake.

"Reporting as ordered, sir."

"How did you access The Hub?" asked Flon.

"There's a military access point on the far side of the complex. It hasn't been used for cycles. I saw the main hatch explode. Anyone care to tell me what happened?"

"Oh, I forgot about that," said Flon as he worked away on one of the computers.

"We believe someone planted a bomb in the corridor," answered Drake. "What's happening out there?"

"It's bad. My soldiers are doing their best, but panic is taking over. The people are scared, and I don't know what to tell them. They need answers sir, and to be honest, so do I. 'Technical difficulties' just isn't going to cut it"

"Quick catch up," yelled Flon, finishing off with the computer console. "The Trojan Devices are weapons; they're draining all our power and preparing to attack a civilisation of people called humans who live outside the Sphere.

"So not 'Technical difficulties' then."

"I estimate less than ten minutes before launch. Any questions?" The patronising manner by which Flon delivered his question riled Tork.

"Just one. Why don't you turn off the power?"

Flon laughed. "Ah, the simple mind of the military."

"Doctor," snapped Drake.

Flon realised he needed to explain himself. "Commander, as I was explaining before you arrived, disconnecting the power supply to Valiros is certainly one option; however it would be far from a permanent solution."

Flon's cheery tone only seemed to fuel Tork's frustration. "Why?" he bluntly asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" He looked between Tork, Drake, Gorn and me. "Clearly not. Well the Trojans would still be active of course. The moment we turned the power back on they would simply start charging again. Back where we started"

"But it buys us some time." Tork was no scientist and his simplistic remark amused Flon.

"Junior Commander Tork, perhaps you should leave the thinking to the scientists."

The commander was already bad-tempered, and Flon's dismissive attitude was not helping.

The muscles in Tork's face tensed. "Do you want to say that again?"

The doctor may have been unorthodox, but he certainly wasn't stupid. Tork was on the verge of physical violence, and Flon could see it.

"Forgive my rudeness, but despite the fact it's going to take more time than we have to turn off the power, if we wish to find a way to stop the Trojans permanently then we're going to need power to do it. Shutting everything down would be a last, and rather final, resort. Clear?"

Drake stepped in to defuse the confrontation before Tork took a swing a Flon. "Doctor Flon, you said there were two ways to prevent the Trojans from reaching full power."

"Yes. The reason Mr Parthy's here. Input the deactivation code."

This was the last straw for Tork. He addressed me with a look of anger.

"Why haven't you done that already?"

I had no answer for him.

Gorn spoke on my behalf. "Because he doesn't have it," His gaze rested on me. "Do you boy?"

"And who are you exactly?" Tork clearly wasn't in the mood to make new friends.

"Hagget Gorn, Trojan Keeper."

"Then shouldn't you have the code?"

Before he had a chance to retaliate to the commander's accusation, a high-pitched whistle pierced the air. Drake clung to his ear; pain seared through his face, a short cry escaped his lips. He pulled the shiny device from his ear with a quick yank. This was followed by several other human scientists in the room with similar devices reacting the same way.

"Minister?" Tork worriedly asked. "What's happening?"

Flon ran to his side. "It's the translators. The Trojans must have drained them."

The Minister stared at us with a blank expression on his face. He attempted to speak, but the words made no sense. This was the reason Drake's speech was so slow; each word he spoke or heard was translated through the device in his ear.

"What can we do for him?" I was genuinely concerned for the Minister, who quickly appeared to accept his plight, and flopped into a chair.

"Nothing," answered Flon. He picked up the translator taking it to a computer station. "The Trojans are drawing power from anywhere they can."

He unclipped a small panel off the back of the device and looked inside.

If Drake could no longer understand me, I wouldn't be able to tell him what I'd discovered. I needed to get a message to someone else in the room.

While the group were preoccupied with the translator, I edged to the table in the centre of the room, ripped the corner from a sheet of paper, picked up a pen, and quickly wrote a simple two word message. I folded the paper into a small square and gripped it in my hand before anyone noticed.

Flon was still fiddling with the small device. "Just as I feared, completely powerless."

Other human scientists in the room stood motionless.

"Doctor, they're at ninety-four percent," called a voice from within the room.

For the first time since arriving at the control centre, Gorn moved. He marched across the room towards me, grabbed my shoulders tightly, and jerked my body with each word. "We need that code!"

"Let him go," warned Tork.

Gorn reluctantly complied. This was my chance. I stayed close to Gorn and forced the paper into the palm of his hand. He looked at me with confusion.

"Step away from him, Mr Gorn," stressed Tork.

"His grandfather was the only one who had the code. Talsen wasn't stupid. He would have planned for this. If he didn't tell us the code, then he must have told him."

Considering the pressure in the Hub had already reached explosive proportions, I was loath to pass on more bad news. "I'm sorry, I don't have it."

"Then billions will die, and Earth is doomed," predicted Gorn.

I wanted him to look at the note, read my warning, and act on it.

"Not only Earth," pointed out Flon. "By the time the Trojans are ready to attack they will have drained every ounce of power from Valiros. We'll be plunged back into the dark ages. Without power, we'll have no way to rebuild; at least not without human intervention."

"And the circle starts again," huffed Gorn as he paced back to his corner and began to open the note.

"Except they'll all be dead," said Flon. "We won't be able to rebuild alone. I'm afraid we've reached our final hour with the loss of all our power." Flon giggled. "Ooh that rhymed." No one laughed. The doctor's lighthearted limerick was clearly inappropriate.

Tork moved to my side and spoke gently. "Creyson, if what they say is true then your grandfather must have told you the code. I doubt he would have left something like this to chance.

"But he didn't. How can I remember something I don't know?"

"Sometimes the best way to hide something is in plain sight. Think. Search your memory. He must have told you."

"They're at ninety-five percent!"

Gorn was reading the note.

I felt sick.

"Close your eyes. Relax. Just try, Creyson," Tork urged.

I closed my eyes. I allowed my memory to drift back, back to my childhood. I remembered my grandfather's face, his smile, his stories.

I heard Gorn's voice. "Doctor Flon, I need to speak with you."

Then, in a moment of clarity, I remembered my grandfather's voice, the words he'd spoken each night when I went to bed, and a passage hanging on the wall.

" _A dream for one can be a dream for many._

If I dream of a new future, could I imagine a new present?

One dream can be forgotten, two can be ignored.

But if there were four then six, they should never be discounted.

A dream for one can be a dream for all."

"The code," I whispered to myself. "I think I know the code." I said a little louder.

"What did you say?" asked Flon.

More confidently I repeated, "I think I know the code."

"Think? You need to be certain, Creyson," said Tork.

"It has to be right. I'd forgotten. My grandfather's position was a guarded secret. He couldn't just tell me the code without exposing himself. So he embedded it in my mind without me even knowing it."

Flon's voice changed, becoming lower and more sinister than I'd ever heard it. "And you're certain?"

"Doctor Flon, I need to speak with you." Gorn was reacting to my note. Even if he doubted what I'd written, he couldn't afford to ignore it.

Flon slowly walked towards Tork. I noticed his physicality alter. He no longer bounced or skipped; instead he walked with weight behind each step.

"Well Mr Parthy, are you certain?" he asked again.

"Yes. Yes, I'm certain."

"Oh dear, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but you've left me with no other option."

"Stay where you are Flon!" warned Gorn.

Tork knew something had changed. "What's going on?"

Flon changed direction and strode to Benton who was standing near one of the control panels on the far side of the room.

He rested a hand on Benton's shoulder and patted it in a friendly gesture.

"Don't look so nervous, my young friend."

"I'm not nervous sir," stammered Benton nervously.

"Ah, but you should be."

I could see it before it happened, but my warning came too late. "Commander Tork, stop him!"

With one swift movement, Flon whipped the Jolt out of Benton's hand, plunged it into his stomach, and pushed the button. My dear friend's whole body convulsed as the electricity poured through him.

"Benton!"

Tork sprinted towards the scientist. He reached out with both hands to pull Benton away, but Flon saw the Commander's approach and pushed my friend towards the advancing soldier. Colliding, both of their bodies crashed to the floor. Benton wasn't moving.

Tork hastily heaved my friend's body off him and began to climb to his feet, but Flon was already prepared. He ripped Tork's Jolt from his combat belt, flung Benton's Jolt to one side, and held the fully charged weapon flush against the commander's neck.

"Get up slowly, Junior Commander."

The conversation in the control centre diminished.

"What are you doing?" demanded Tork.

"Silence! Anyone moves, he dies."

A voice abruptly called out. "The Trojans are at ninety-six percent!"

The lights went out, and The Hub was plunged into darkness.

Chapter Fifteen

' **Revelation'**

We all held our breath; no one dared move.

Each Valiron in the room illuminated a subtle glow; the non-Valirons were lost to the darkness. Thankfully, after a few moments the emergency lighting kicked in. The bright and glittering control centre was submerged in a deep yellow glow that made the room feel murky, creating pockets of shadows where the weak lighting failed to penetrate.

Flon held the Jolt like a pro. He may have played the role of a mad scientist, but he clearly knew how to handle the lethal weapon; Tork was going nowhere.

Sweat dripped off the commander's brow. He was a strong and powerful soldier, and not used to be being on the receiving end of a Jolt. Even through his military training and years of discipline, he couldn't hide the fear in his eyes.

I could see the cogs turning in his brain, searching for an opportunity, weighing up his odds of success if he attempted to break free. He was significantly larger than Flon, and his chances of escape were in his favour, but there was still a risk of failure. We needed to buy some time, wait for an opening.

"So Mr Parthy was right," snarled Gorn.

"Why don't you read that note for the whole class, Hagget?"

Gorn opened up the note and read it aloud. " _'Doctor Flon.'_ "

"He's a bright boy. What gave me away, Creyson?"

I needed to stay steadfast, bury my fear and buy us some time. The longer I kept Flon talking the more chance Tork had to plan his escape. If I faltered or said the wrong thing it could cost the commander his life.

"There were a lot of little things."

"Please, enlighten us."

"At first I thought it was Gorn. He _did_ go to my unit, probably searching for the code."

Gorn averted his eyes in embarrassment.

"He certainly has a lot of aggression towards Earth... but there was something about you that didn't sit right with me. While everyone else had an air of desperation, you seemed more... excited by the events. I accredited it to your eccentricity."

Flon kept his gaze on me. He seemed to be enjoying my narrative.

"There were just too many things that didn't make sense. You told me that you've lived in The Hub your whole life, yet you managed to get lost from the Guest Suite to your lab. I think you were trying to stall me, waste time. Then there was miscalculating how long it would be before the Trojans reached full power. I can't believe a scientist of your calibre would make a mistake like that. Even Minister Drake said you were one of the greatest minds on Valiros."

"Yes, I suppose that was a little inconceivable considering my intellect."

"Something else that was inconceivable was locking yourself in your lab for days; I doubt the head of research and development would be stumped by a door. You said it gave you time to catch up on some work; I imagine it gave you plenty of time to reprogram the Trojans without interference."

"It was almost an insult that they believed me. So is that everything?"

"My grandfather, he said you'd try to be my friend, that you would mislead me. He was right, except you weren't trying to mislead just me; you were trying to mislead everyone."

"Creyson, I hate to undermine your stellar detective work, but it was unlikely your grandfather's warning was about me. Talsen had no idea there was a traitor in his midst."

"Oh I think he knew, I just don't think he knew who it was."

"Possibly. But this is all circumstantial, just oddities, nothing more. Oh come on Creyson, what _actually_ gave me away?"

"The picture in your office brought everything together. It was of you, and someone I met earlier today. You said you had a son who works outside the city. The person in the picture was Kron, your son. He attempted to stop me from getting here, which was why you were so surprised to see me when I arrived."

"Kron. He's completely useless. He was a last resort. He was just meant to observe and ensure you were on the tram. I had operatives waiting at Trans Central station, but after the city was evacuated Kron had to... improvise. Not his strongest talent. I dispatched a second team to apprehend you, but Commander Tork is quite a skilled driver."

"So what happens now?" asked Tork.

"You won't have to wait long, the finale is almost here."

A few minutes earlier the doctor had been skipping around the room with a cheery disposition; I now found that memory hard to recall. It was clear everything before this point had been an act, a pretence to lull us into a false sense of security; this was the true Doctor Flon.

"You can't let them launch, Flon. It's genocide." Unlike the rest of us, Gorn showed no apprehension.

Flon ignored Gorn's imploration. "Report," he ordered. The young scientist at the control desk wasn't sure whether to follow the order or not. "I said report!"

"The Trojans are at ninety-seven percent," she fearfully answered.

Drake remained still, sitting on the chair. I looked at him. He wasn't able to understand what was being said, but he understood what was going on. I felt sorry for him. Flon had been a friend, a colleague, and the Minister had admired him. Drake didn't look concerned or angry; simply hurt by the betrayal.

Gorn persisted. "You're crazy."

"Oh keep up, Hagget; 'crazy' was an act," Flon said with a smug smile. "I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out." He snapped his head to me. "Luckily for me, you're just as stupid as his grandfather."

My stomach churned, anger building. I wanted to leap to my grandfather's defence, but Gorn got there first.

"Talsen Trent was a great Valiron."

"Really? You'd think a great Valiron would know when he's being murdered."

This revelation was like a blow to the gut. I was blinded by a deep hatred for Flon, stronger than anything I had experienced in all my life. I thought my grandfather had been taken from me because it was his time; ill health that comes with old age, but now I'd discovered he was stolen by a twisted genius with a perverse agenda.

"You killed him?" I wanted to sound firm and assertive; I wanted to do justice to my Grandfather's memory, but my voice betrayed my intentions. It cracked like the pathetic child I was.

"Talsen had the code, and I couldn't allow him to use it."

"How? How did you kill him?"

"I met Talsen shortly after it was reported his daughter had gone missing. Up until that point his identity had been kept secret. Although I knew who he was, I needed to meet him. Your mother's disappearance forced him to expose his position. In order to find her, he would require the resources of The Hub, and more specifically, my knowledge and experience. I began poisoning him from then onwards; a little bit here, a little bit there, but the resilient old fool simply refused to die. It took longer than expected."

Flon relaxed his grip slightly, and Tork didn't miss the opportunity for escape.

Pulling his body away, he freed himself from Flon's grasp. Spinning around, he reached for the butt of the Jolt with one hand while the other formed a fist and travelled towards Flon's face, but he wasn't quick enough. Flon ducked the approaching blow, swivelled the Jolt out of reach and plunged it into the commander's ribs, hammering him with an electrical charge that forced him to collapse to the floor in a heap. A scientist wouldn't have been able to react so quickly to Tork's escape attempt; he clearly had some military training of his own. I wanted to help, but fright kept me glued to the spot. The soldier held his side in pain as Flon reached down and grabbed Tork around the collar, lifting him to his feet and jamming the Jolt viciously against his neck.

"Don't try that again, Commander," he advised. Tork was enraged but weak from the electrical blast.

Flon looked back at me with a happy smile. "You'd be amazed how easy it is to kill someone. With the right knowledge, you can even make it look like natural causes. No questions. Once Talsen was out of the way all I had to do was reprogram the Trojans, and transmit the order to attack. Simple."

"So what about Creyson, didn't you factor him into your 'simple' plan?" asked Tork through gritted teeth.

I answered. "You couldn't, could you? There was no record of me. As far as you were concerned I didn't exist. My grandfather... erased me."

"It was a slight sticking point. Talsen never mentioned a grandson, and as you so rightly point out, I could find no record of any descending family on file, except his daughter, but she'd already played her part. Everything was going swimmingly, until a few days ago when Drake informed me of your existence. If Talsen knew he was dying, then he would have told you the code. I knew I had to.... adapt my plan."

"So why not just kill him?" Tork was recovering from the brutal Jolt. I was glad he was all right, but I wished he'd shut up. I didn't want Flon to get any ideas.

"Come commander, grandfather and grandson both dead within a phase of each other? The risk of the murders being traced back to me was too great. No. My best option was to have him disappear; of course my son managed to mess that one up."

Gorn stepped forward taking a defensive stance between Flon and me. It was a protective gesture. Whether he was protecting me or the code I possessed, I'll never know.

"Why? Why do any of this?"

Flon bristled under this new line of questioning. A smile crept across his face; he was proud of himself. His voice became almost cheery "Because it's time to return the veil of darkness to Valiros."

"You're a Veil." If Gorn were surprised, he didn't show it.

"Veils understand what it means to be Valiron. Before the humans arrived we were a strong race, powerful; but look at us now. We live in our cosy homes, with our beautiful architecture, and pretty clothes. We want for nothing; we've become weak. There are those among us who prefer the way we used to live. It's time we returned to our roots. We were born into the darkness. This new world of light was offered to us, and we embraced it, but the cost was everything that makes us who we are."

"So you want to throw us back into the dark ages?"

"I want us to be Valiron."

I recited my grandfather's final words. "His only alliance is to the darkness."

"Within minutes the Trojans will reach full power; they will launch an attack on Earth, and we will live in the darkness again. The weak may perish, but the strong will survive. I doubt Kron will make it."

Flon was enjoying the sound of his own voice, babbling about the wonders of living in the darkness. He was focused on Gorn and failed to see the new addition that had entered the control centre. Zeal.

She wandered in through one of the doorways to Flon's right. She looked lost as she searched for a way out of The Hub. I had never been so happy to see her.

Zeal spotted me and opened her mouth to speak. My wide eyes and raised eyebrows conveyed my intended message. She closed her mouth and edged back slightly into the doorway.

It didn't take her long to figure out what was happening. She switched to hunter mode.

Creeping slowly, she moved further into the room, slinking like a predator behind Flon. She quickly assessed the situation and formulated a strategy of attack. Our eyes met over Flon's shoulder, and she smiled. Zeal was ready to flex her muscles; this was what she was born for, the thrill of the fight.

She began pointing at Flon, then back to me. I didn't understand what she wanted me to do, and this frustrated her. She rolled her eyes then mouthed one word to me. _"Distraction."_

I was flustered. What could I do? Flon had a Jolt pressed against Tork's neck. With one flick of the switch, he could finish the commander off. We would only get one shot at this. If it didn't work, Tork could lose his life. I racked my brain, and did the first thing that came to mind. I nodded at Zeal, and she dropped into a low stance.

I took a deep breath and then, screaming at the top of my lungs, I let out a shriek that sliced through the air. Arms waving, I ran like a mad person; circling myself like a Lag chasing his tail. I may have looked ridiculous, but it worked. Flon stopped talking and stared at me with surprise.

Zeal wasted no time. She pushed off the ground and dived on the doctor's back with a howl, locking her arms around his neck. Tork was quick to react. He slipped out of his grasp and pushed himself away. In a split second, he was back reaching for the Jolt. Flon threw Zeal off his back with a roar of anger, and she went hurtling to the floor, hitting the reflective surface with a heavy thud.

The Doctor failed to see the commander back at his side. With one swing of his fist, Tork smashed the Doctor across the side of the face, grabbing the Jolt with his free hand. Flon turned his attention to the commander, reaffirming his grip on the Jolt with more force, but Zeal swung her legs in a fluid arch taking Flon's feet from under him. Legs flapping in the air, his back slapped onto the floor, the weapon slipping out of his grasp. Tork spun the Jolt down and jammed it into Flon's stomach pushing the button. He gave him one quick blast to incapacitate him.

The duo had worked together with remarkably fluid synchronisation. The doctor remained on the floor gripping his stomach, moaning in pain.

Zeal got to her feet and strolled over to me while brushing herself off. "Screaming like a fool, and running like a lunatic? That's the best you could come up with?" chuckled Zeal.

"You're welcome." I sarcastically responded.

"You're welcome? I'm the one who saved the day. Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

"How did you get out the Guest Suite?"

"I caught the door before it closed. If you thought I was going to spend another minute in that hideous room you had another think coming."

"Save it you two," barked Tork. "Report?" he shouted to the young scientist who had been frozen in shock.

"Erm... The Trojans are at ninety-eight percent."

Tork turned to Gorn "How do you input the code?"

"We can do it from here."

Flon laughed through spurts of pain. "No you can't. I've disabled the remote access. You won't be able to stop them."

"Is there another way?"

Gorn thought for a moment. "Yes. I believe you can input the code directly. Each Trojan has an access panel in the bottom left corner. If you open it up you can punch in the code manually; the deactivation order should be instantly transmitted to the entire network."

Tork didn't appreciate technical explanations. "They'll shut down?"

"Yes."

With a nod, the commander marched his way over to me. "Creyson, what's the code?"

Tork was planning to input the code himself. In an instant, any fear I once harboured washed away. This was my grandfather's duty, and now it was mine, my legacy. This had become my responsibility. "No. I'm going to do it."

He knew there wasn't time to argue. "Fine." He looked back at Gorn throwing him the Jolt. "Gorn, keep an eye on Flon."

"How are you going to get out? The corridor is inaccessible"

"The military access point."

Flon began to snigger. "I'm afraid not, commander. After you reminded me, I changed the encryption code. I suppose you could blast it open, but I doubt you'll have the time."

Tork hesitated for a moment, he had no answer.

An idea sprang to mind. "The ventilation system. Flon told me all about it. It runs throughout the entire complex, and there are several vents that lead to the surface." Apparently I'd been paying more attention than I'd thought.

Tork's head lifted. I followed his gaze, which settled on a small air vent. "Creyson, how are you with small spaces?"

In response to his question, I grabbed one of the silver chairs and rolled it under the air duct. "Ready when you are."

He climbed on the chair, pulled the grate free from the wall then clambered his way into the small opening.

Benton began to move, and his eyes flickered open.

"That really hurt," he griped.

I dropped by his side.

"Benton, you're okay."

"You've got a weird perception of 'okay'."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like three hundred volts of electricity were poured through my body. Is it over?"

"Not yet."

He let out a small whine. "This has been a really bad first day."

"Tell me about it. Zeal," She looked at me. "Benton's been hurt, stay with him."

She stared down at our friend lying on the floor. "Typical; trust Benton to be the one who ended up unconscious."

"Zeal..."

"Okay, not a problem. I'll stay with him."

"Mr Parthy, get moving," order Tork from within the vent.

I began to climb the chair, when Zeal grabbed my wrist. "I have no idea what's going on, but it sounds dangerous. Be careful Creyson Parthy."

This could have been the last time I saw Zeal; in the light at least. I'm not sure what came over me, but I jumped back down, grabbed her, and gave her the biggest kiss I could muster. Zeal was stunned. So was I.

"Well, took you long enough," she jibbed.

"You know, you annoy me. You frustrate me. Sometimes you make so angry I feel like my head could explode."

"You're ruining the moment."

"But you are sort of amazing."

"Yes I am."

"Mr Parthy!" shouted Tork.

Without a word, I jumped on to the chair and pulled myself up and through the vent.

Behind me, I could hear Flon shouting a haunting prediction. "You'll never stop them! The darkness is coming!"

Chapter Sixteen

' **The Code'**

Dragging our bodies through the air ducts was tough going. Tork's large frame made it difficult for him to turn corners, and I could hear him huffing with effort as he forced his body through the slim flues. Eventually we saw light pouring through one of the vents that led to the surface. Bashing it open, we crawled out of the claustrophobic space.

Tork and I stood on the Dorow wasteland, the destroyed entrance to The Hub behind us. On any normal day, you would have been able to see far into the distant, but this was no normal day. The lights surrounding Dorow had failed, and a ring of blackness that threatened to engulf the last remnants of light surrounded the wasteland.

Laid out before us were thousands of Trojan Devices. Although the sight was as terrifying as ever, my mind was focused on one thing, input the code. I was assuming of course that the code was correct. Up until that point, I hadn't doubted myself. I believed, with all my heart that I was correct, but suddenly, standing there with the weight of two worlds on my shoulders, I questioned if my epiphany was indeed right. What if it was simply a rhyme, a wonderful piece of literature written by a historic figure, and had nothing to do with the code at all? I repeated the passage in my head.

" _A dream for one can be a dream for many_

If I dream of a new future, could I imagine a new present?

One dream can be forgotten, two can be ignored

But if there were four then six, they should never be discounted.

A dream for one can be a dream for all."

One, one, two, four, six, one.

It was all I had. Right or wrong, these six numbers were our only hope.

"We only have a few minutes before the launch," prompted Tork.

I stared at the devices that were no longer dormant; they had become living, breathing entities. You could feel the vibration of power surging through the ground, and a faint smoke had gathered around their bases as their engines began to power up. I had no time to second-guess myself. Flon's single-minded determination never wavered. He was willing to destroy an entire civilisation, and devastate another, in order to obtain his goal. I needed to have the same conviction. I was the only thing that stood between the end of Valiros as we knew it, and the death of billions of innocent humans.

"Gorn said to input the code directly into one of the Trojans."

"I know."

"Then I suggest you snap to it."

"Yes sir," I replied. With one final breath to calm my nerves, I advanced towards the machines.

Once I'd arrived at one of the Trojans my breathing was erratic, I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, and sweat covered my palms. I closed my eyes and focused on calming down. I thought of Zeal, and our bonding ceremony, and for the first time that notion didn't fill me with dread. I wanted to bond with her, and I wanted to do it in the light. This thought gave me the strength I needed.

I began searching for the access panel. Where was it? What had Gorn said? I couldn't remember. The device was so large. Was it on the back or the front? Top or bottom? Any resolve I'd regained was quickly evaporating.

In a complete panic, I turned back to Tork. "I can't find the access panel!"

His face was calm, although inside he was probably as anxious as I was. He ran over. "Bottom left corner."

"Help me look."

We both began to scan the base of the device. It was Tork who found it. "Here."

The radio clipped to his belt sprang to life, and the young scientist's voice crackled over it.

"Commander Tork, the Trojans are at ninety-nine percent."

"Understood," he said.

The mighty overhead lights began to flicker as the last remnants of power were drained from their energy cells.

"We're out of time Mr Parthy. It's now or never."

Frantically, I tried to pull the panel free from the Trojan. "I can't get it open!"

"Move." Tork pushed me out of the way and began to pull the panel with all his might. The heat from the engine was increasing, and I could see his skin beginning to sear under the intense temperature.

The panel came loose. Tork gripped his hand, his face distorted in agony.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Forget me and input the code."

The access panel exposed a small control console at the base of the unit, a combination of nine buttons. Falling to my knees, I prepared to input the code.

"Quickly," he pleaded, his voice filled with pain.

Once again the radio spoke "They're at one hundred percent."

The lights above us failed, and Dorow was plunged into darkness. The Trojans roared to life expelling masses of heat and fire from their engines. The blast forced me back. The heat had become so severe there was no way to reach the panel without serious injury.

"It's too hot. I can't input the code!" I shouted over the racket.

"Tell me the code! I'll do it!" he bawled back.

"You can't. It's too late."

Tork knew I was right. The panel was covered in raging flames. There was no way of reaching it and punching in the six numbers required to power down the Trojans.

The ground was shaking from over six thousand flying bombs preparing to launch their attack.

The lights may have failed, but Dorow was aglow with the burning flames that spewed from the devices. We were surrounded in a fiery wasteland like something from a nightmare. Tork and I both knew it was unlikely either of us would survive the launch. All points of escape had been cut off by walls of fire. This was the end. I imagined Flon, lying on the floor in the control centre, satisfaction on his face. He'd won.

"It's been an honour, Creyson Parthy," Tork yelled.

This couldn't be the end. This wasn't the way it was meant to happen.

One by one, the Trojans began to lift off the ground leaving a path of deadly flames in their wake. My face was starting to burn, my eyes stinging from the relentless heat. Each device rocketed towards the Gateway Cavern, towards Earth.

I refused to allow this to be my legacy. There had to be something I could do. Resolute, I ran back to the Trojan and plunged my hand into the flames.

"Creyson! No!"

The heat didn't seem to burn at first, it was almost cold, and then the receivers in my brain translated the pain from my hand. It was excruciating. I grew dizzy as I began to lose consciousness. I managed to reach the control panel and began to input the six-digit code. I heard a horrendous cry, I wanted it to stop... until I realised it was me.

Tork grabbed me and yanked my body away.

My hand was blistering, and the sleeve of my shirt had melted into parts of my skin.

"Creyson, you're an idiot."

"I did it," I said, grimacing through the pain. "I imputed the code."

"Then why haven't they stopped?" He unclipped his radio and spoke. "Gorn, come in."

"Gorn here."

"We've imputed the code, but it hasn't worked."

"The code must have been wrong."

"So what can we do?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the radio. "Nothing," Gorn said.

"I need options, Gorn." There was no response on the radio. "Control centre, come in."

He tried to switch to another channel on the radio. "Anyone, please respond." He looked across at me. "It's dead."

I shouted to Tork "I must have missed something. There must be something else."

Faced with my own mortality, my mind suddenly became clear. The fear was gone, and a peculiar contentment washed over me. The heat scorched my skin, the searing pain travelled through my body, the burning was almost unbearable, but I no longer cared. My grandfather's final words whispered in my mind _'Speak and be heard.'_ That was the answer.

"It was never about just the code."

"What?"

"Anyone could press six buttons. There has to be a reason only one person can deactivate them, a reason I was important enough to hide. It's because I'm the only who can deliver the code."

"Deliver? I don't understand."

"Speak and be heard, that's what he told me. First it was the voice of my grandfather, now it's my voice."

"You have to say the numbers?"

"No-one said the code was just the numbers."

I stood and turned to the device in front of me and screamed at the top of my lungs.

"A dream for one can be a dream for many. If I dream of a new future, could I imagine a new present? One dream can be forgotten, two can be ignored. But if there were four then six, they should never be discounted. A dream for one can be a dream for all."

Nothing happened. Trojans were still taking flight around me; those already in the air had almost reached the Gateway Cavern. The device in front of me began to rise from the ground.

It should have worked. It had to work. I collapsed to my knees, resting my forehead on the ground.

After a few seconds, the roaring began to decrease. I lifted my head; the deadly fires that surrounded us were diminishing. In the distance, I could see the Trojan Devices that were in mid-flight, plummeting to the ground.

Tork stared at me with strange mixture of disbelief and relief, sweat dripping from his face. "Creyson? What just happened?"

The lights in Dorow began to slowly power back up, flooding the wasteland with light. This was followed by the surrounding areas that became illuminated by the overhead lighting. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

The radio crackled to life again. "Commander Tork. Commander Tork please respond."

He lifted the radio to his face. "Tork here."

"You did it. The Trojans have powered down, and energy is being redirected to all main systems."

"It wasn't me." He took a beat. "You can thank Creyson Parthy."

"Understood. We'll see you shortly."

"Get that military access point open and have a medical team ready to meet us."

"Yes Commander. Control centre out."

Tork flung the radio to the ground. He looked exhausted. It had certainly been a full day for both of us. "How are you feeling, Mr Parthy?"

"I'm a little burnt around the edges, but I can honestly say... I've never felt better." And that was the truth.

"Let's get back inside." I helped Tork to his feet, and we began to walk towards the underground entrance to The Hub.

"Creyson," said a voice from behind us. I recognised it. It was a voice that had offered me comfort in the past. A voice I hadn't heard for over half a cycle.

I looked back and sure enough standing directly in front of me, clear as the Trojans around us, was my mother. I couldn't fathom how this was possible. I wondered if I'd lost my mind, that perhaps the stress had been too much causing me to hallucinate.

"Do you see her?"

Tork seemed as mystified as I did. "Who is she?" he asked.

I was relieved this apparition wasn't in my mind.

"She's my mother."

She looked the same as the day she'd vanished. Her long sandy hair flowing over her shoulders, her warm eyes, and gentle smile as beautiful as the memory that was engraved in my mind.

"How's this possible?" I stepped towards her. "Mother...?"

"Creyson..." started Tork

"Mother, I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Creyson," he tried again.

I turned back to Tork. "You see her. You said you could see her."

"I'm sorry Creyson, but she's not really here."

"But you see her."

"I've seen this technology before. We use it in the military for training simulations. It's a projection." Tork explained. "It must have been programmed into the Trojan Devices. When you delivered the code, your voice activated the program."

I knew he was right. As I got closer, I noticed she didn't look directly at me. She didn't react to my voice, and there was something about her physical form that wasn't quite solid; light seemed to pass through her, giving her figure an ethereal glow. This wasn't my mother, it was a recording.

My heart sank a little.

She began to speak. "Crey, if you're seeing this that means the Veils were successful in activating the Trojans, and you were successful in inputting the deactivation code."

Hearing her voice again took me back to my youth and the bedtime stories she used to read to me.

"It also means my father, your grandfather has passed. I know he would be proud of you. I'm sorry I had to leave, but I had no choice. I look forward to the day I can hold you again; look upon your face. The world you once knew probably seems a great deal larger now, but this is merely the start Crey. Time is of the essence, and I don't have long, so remember this; there is war coming. The Order of Darkness are preparing to invade, and we won't be able to stop them alone. The Veils have a plan, greater than any of us could imagine. Valiros is going to be caught in the middle of a battle for supremacy between these two forces, and the outcome of this war rests with you. The challenges you will face will be great, and the loss even greater. Not everything is what it seems, but if you follow the path that is laid out before you, you can save our world. I love you Crey, with all my heart, I love you." And with that my mother disappeared.

The ominous warning she delivered made my stomach turn cold, and her final words caused a tear to form in my eye.

"Okay, the Veils I know, but who are 'The Order of Darkness'?" asked Tork.

"I don't know." I took a beat. "But I intend to find out."

Chapter Seventeen

' **The High Darlon Council'**

I brushed off my trousers for the tenth time, and slid my hand across my jacket in an attempt to keep out the creases. My tie was uncomfortable around my neck and caused the collar of my shirt to rub my neck raw.

My hand and arm were bandaged, but the stinging was still annoying. The longer I waited, the more apprehensive I became, the more sweat my body produced, and the more it caused my burns to sting.

I'd never been inside the High Darlon Council building. I'd stood outside its grand entrance and admired the beautiful round building that was the centrepiece of the capital.

The inside was magnificent. Never in my life had I seen such breath-taking beauty. The building didn't look as if it had been built; it looked more as if it had grown from the ground and shaped itself to become the pinnacle of all buildings. Arched doors flowed to smooth floors that flowed to rounded ceilings. Grey and white blended effortlessly throughout the entire building. This place was the model from which the rest of Valiros was designed, but this was the first, and everything else was merely a copy attempting to match its splendour.

I sat outside the main council chamber, waiting to be summoned. As usual, I'd arrived early, so a kind lady had provided me with a glass of water and told me where to sit.

There was a viewing terminal opposite me, and I watched a news report regarding the recent events. It was the same perky reporter who had been sensationalising the Trojans disappearance.

"Due to circumstances beyond the High Darlon Council's control, Trans Central and the surrounding areas experienced a temporary loss of power. The loss was caused by a power surge in the main energy supply feeding the capital. Many areas were evacuated for safety purposes. The Council are delighted to say this problem has now been rectified. In an unrelated story, all the Trojan Devices were recalled by the Trojan Keepers for maintenance and repairs. We've been told that they will be returned to their locations shortly. The High Darlon Council apologises for any inconvenience these events may have caused."

Most would believe these stories, but I was certain it would also add to the conspiracy theories; a conspiracy I was now a part of.

I wished Zeal had been here. She had returned to Danton because she was eager to arrange the bonding ceremony.

"There's so much to prepare," she jabbered, "You'll be fine on your own. I mean, if you want me there, I suppose I could make the time...."

"Zeal, it's okay."

"Oh, you know how I feel about the government, Creyson Parthy. The idea of walking into the High Darlon Council Building makes me feel sick."

"It's fine. I'd rather you get everything ready. Besides, you'd probably manage to insult them, and get us both locked up."

"Probably."

It was crazy, but I was actually looking forward to bonding with Zeal.

I'd remained in The Hub for several days while power was restored to Valiros. I met with more military officers than I care to count, each of them stressing the importance of secrecy.

Sadly I didn't get an opportunity to speak with Tork. He was sent away immediately to coordinate the reoccupation of Trans Central. As recognition of his actions, the military promoted Tork from Junior Commander to full Commander.

Flon had been taken by the military to a secret location for further questioning. I doubted he would see the light of day again. The revelation of the Veils' true purpose to bring darkness back to Valiros had shocked everyone. Once they were considered a harmless group of Valirons who wanted to expose the truth, now they represented a greater threat to Valiros and Earth.

Minister Drake's translator had been repaired, and I could once again understand his slow drooling tone. I had not mentioned the appearance of my mother and, to my knowledge, neither had Tork.

A few hours before Zeal and I left to return home, I was summoned to the Minister's office.

"You asked to see me sir?"

He sat behind his desk flicking through some paperwork. He looked up at me with a smile. "Mr Parthy." I lingered in the doorway, "Please, come in. Take a seat."

I timidly obeyed and sat in a chair opposite his desk. Looking around the room, I understood why the Minister hadn't invited me to his office before. The room was filled with strange and alien things. Pictures hung on the walls; images of places I'd never seen before; buildings, monuments, impressive landscapes, and people who were obviously not Valiron. All the furniture was slightly too large, making me feel small in comparison.

"No doubt you're keen to return home."

"I am, sir."

"Then I won't keep you any longer than necessary. Firstly, I want to thank you for your help. If it weren't for you, my world may very well have been lost."

"I didn't do that much."

"Mr Parthy, it's not every day you save an entire culture from extinction. Accept my thanks gracefully."

"Yes sir.... And you're welcome."

"Our team has been reconstructing the explosive device from the corridor. It appears it was remotely controlled. Luckily for us the receiver malfunctioned."

"Seemed to work perfectly well from where I was standing."

"But it didn't destroy what it was meant to. Flon sent the order to detonate from a computer in the control centre."

"When was it sent?"

"When you and I arrived at The Hub."

"It was meant to kill me."

"So it appears."

"Sir, if what you're saying is true, then I think you have a bigger problem. The Hub may have been infiltrated by more Veils than you realise."

"Care to explain how you've come to that conclusion?"

"When you and I arrived here, Doctor Flon wasn't in the control centre; he was in the Guest Suite, with Zeal."

Drake's expression turned grave.

"Also, I've been thinking, sir. Flon was... is an incredibly clever scientist. He thought out every part of this plot, right down to the last detail. He managed to manipulate everyone."

"You sound like you admire him."

"Not at all. My issue is there was a big hole in his plan."

"How so?"

"He murdered my grandfather because he had the code. My mother was missing, and there was no record of me, so Flon assumed nobody else could stop the Trojans."

"That's right."

"And there's the flaw. If there were no family members to pass the code onto, then my grandfather surely would have passed it on to someone else. It was Tork who said my grandfather wouldn't have left something like that to chance."

"So the question you're asking is why Flon didn't arrive at the same assumption."

"Exactly."

"Do you have a theory?"

"Not really, but I don't believe Flon would miss something like that."

"Well, whatever his intentions, Doctor Flon is safely locked away."

"Locked away or not, I don't think we've seen the last of him."

We both sat in silence for a few seconds.

"I called you here because I wanted to talk to you about your mother." Drake's statement took me by surprise. I doubted Commander Tork had told him about the projection, so I decided to keep quiet and see where the conversation led.

"What about her?"

"As you've probably gathered, Tabar didn't simply disappear, Mr Parthy. Just as there are people from my world down here, there are people from your world up there."

"My mother's on Earth?" I couldn't hide my excitement.

"She was sent as a representative; my counterpart if you will. Unfortunately, we lost contact with her nearly three phases ago. We have no idea where she is or what happened to her."

To be so close to finding her and then to have her ripped away seemed unfair.

"She's missing?"

"I assure you Mr Parthy, we intend to find her. A group calling themselves 'The Order of Darkness' claim to know where she is."

"Flon mentioned them."

"They're a group who believe that the human race originates from Valiros, that it's the birth place of mankind. They feel humanity has a claim to your world and wish to exploit it. The financial gain of Valiros is obvious and desirable. Earth has nearly exhausted its natural resources; your world offers a fresh supply."

"Did they take her?"

"They say not, but they claim she's still alive. I fear her disappearance was part of a plan to expose your grandfather's identity; which would mean the Veils are responsible for her desertion. I'm planning to return to the surface shortly. I intend to find out what I can."

"I appreciate that, sir."

Drake stood from behind the desk and walked around to my side. He perched himself on the edge next to my seat. "And I want you to come with me."

I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. "Excuse me?"

"Commander Tork has already agreed to accompany us as a military escort."

"I'm not sure Zeal would be too happy with me leaving."

"She's welcome to come along. She already knows about my world, and I'm sure she would be an asset. Zeal has more than proved herself capable."

"I don't know what to say."

"Creyson, if I'm going to find Tabar Parthy, then I'll need you to do it."

There was no doubt in my mind. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll come with you."

A smile beamed across Drake's face. "Wonderful." He moved back behind his desk. "There are a few arrangements to make, so I will contact you in the next few days."

"Thank you, sir." The Minister had given me hope, and for that, I was eternally thankful.

I began to leave.

"One other thing, Creyson."

"Yes Minister?"

"The High Darlon Council would like to see you."

"Why?"

"I'm not privy to all the council's intentions, but I imagine they wish to thank you. Tomorrow morning, first light."

"Right." I was scared. "First light."

The next day I took a side trip to the medical building to check on Benton.

Although the charge from the Jolt had caused some internal injuries, he was recovering well. I invited him to the Bonding Ceremony, and left him with a basket of fruit, and a couple of publications to help pass the time.

Now I sat waiting to meet the High Darlon Council for the first time.

The door to the chamber swung open, and a sprightly young male smiled at me. "They're ready for you Mr Parthy."

I walked through the door into the council chamber. Each footstep echoed through the cavernous space. The ceiling was so incredibly high I practically had to break my neck to look all the way up.

The twelve members of the council appeared aged. There were six males and six females, all perfectly presented and impeccably dressed. They sat in grand silver thrones that created a semi-circle at the end of the room. Each chair looked hand carved and individually, ornately decorated. In front of each chair was a plinth roughly half a metre high with a white glass ball that appeared to float in mid-air.

A single chair of much simpler design was placed in the centre of the hall. I took the seat.

One by one, the glass balls began to shine until all twelve radiated a brilliant white light.

"The forum is now in session," announced a male council member.

A female spoke, "Creyson Parthy, born in the village of Danton situated in the Lincoll Provence, son to Tabar and Lowen Parthy, one cycle and 11 phases old."

Another male spoke "We owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr Parthy. Thanks to your bravery you have saved both Valiros and Earth."

"This debt can never be repaid," added a female.

"You and your family will be relocated to the Capital. You may live in any unit of your choosing. In addition, you will be granted the tile of Tre Creyson Parthy."

'Tre' is a title given to Valirons who have contributed to the society in a significant way, such as Tre Broter Penn. This tile has been given to less than ten living Valirons and is normally reserved for the dead.

"Thank you. It's an honour."

"However," a stern male added. "We must stress the importance of secrecy. The population cannot know about the humans, or how they changed our world. The Trojans true purpose must also be kept secret, as should the true intent of the Veils."

"Do you understand?" asked a female.

I thought for a moment. "Yes, I understand, and I'll keep your secrets."

"Good. You may leave Tre Creyson Parthy," concluded the oldest of the Council Members.

Each of the lights began to fade.

"But you're wrong."

All twelve stared at me, then at each other. The glass balls began to brighten again.

"Explain your last statement," said a male.

I moved my head from left to right, looking at each of the council members before speaking.

"Secrets and lies, that's what our world is built on. My grandfather was murdered for them, my mother was sent to another world for them, my friend is lying in a medical bed for them. We've become a race that finds lying far too easy."

"The High Darlon Council does not lie, it protects," stressed a female.

"You deceive, and that deceit almost tore our world apart and nearly decimated another."

"It is an unfortunate truth, but secrets must be kept for the greater good."

"But I don't see any good that has come from your secrets. We blame the Veils, call them evil, but they were born out the lies that you created. When the power failed, the people were scared, they panicked, and countless soldiers and innocent people were hurt."

A male council member leaned forward on his seat, staring at me through narrow eyes. "Are you giving us a reason to doubt your loyalty?"

"Not at all. I am, and always will be, a loyal Valiron. I love my world, and nothing will change that fact. It's difficult to accept that everything I was taught was a lie..."

"And that makes you angry."

"Not angry, but I'm happier knowing the truth. Valiros is a beautiful place; people have the right to know why.

"Can we trust you to keep our secrets?" questioned another male.

"You are the High Darlon Council, and I respect that. I give you my word, I will never tell."

"After what you've said, why would you be so willing to be a part of our deception?"

"Because I have no choice. However, I would rather you keep the title, and allow me to keep my grandfather's unit on the edge of the city."

"As you wish."

"I'll keep your secrets, but I won't benefit from them."

The Council members stared at me, until the oldest male finally spoke, "You may leave... _Mr_ Creyson Parthy."

I stood from the chair, turned my back on the High Darlon Council, and walked out of the chamber with wobbly legs.

####

It was nice to be home.

Walking through the front door was like returning home from a long trip away. Although only a few days had passed, it felt like cycles. Everything was just how I remembered it, yet it didn't feel the same. The person who used to live in this unit no longer existed; in his place was a wiser and more watchful inhabitant.

I sat in the living compartment, savouring the moment to myself. I drifted to the passage hanging on the wall, a simple rhyme that had saved our world.

I was hungry but too exhausted to make food, so I remained on the sofa and closed my eyes.

Not so long ago I was an unimportant Valiron living a quiet life. Now I was Creyson Parthy, saviour of worlds, life partner, and adventurer. I didn't know what awaited me in this new world, but I was looking forward to finding out.

There were more mysteries to solve, more secrets to uncover. For the first time, my life was greater than my imagination.

My name is Creyson Parthy, and this is my story....

####

I hope you enjoyed reading this book. The idea came from a documentary I watched. It explored the theories regarding the planets core. Although scientists believe it is solid, they can't be certain. This got me thinking and Creyson Parthy was born.

I hope this will be the first book of four. I am currently working on the second book which is entitled 'Creyson Parthy & The Map of Truth.'

I do need to say a big thank you to Mark who's constant encouragement (Whether it's wanted or not) is largely responsible for the completion of this book. Thank you.

Also a thank you to my proof-reader (You know who you are.)

And of course, thank you to you for taking the time to read my book, and I hope you will follow Creyson Parthy in all his upcoming adventures.
