TFF: Ovion Archives

It had taken me a long while to set aside that incident. I had woken up with horrific nightmares the first two sals after my leaving Vnetor. Even now, I had not completely escaped damn fucking Smint. Although, my fondness for Master Smint was non-existent, for he had been unusually cruel and taken real pleasure in tormenting me in particular. I was not sure what exactly was my allure, my exotic DNA or, a more visual allure, my abundant curves, which had not been all the rage back in Johua. My curves had fared much better here in Lycus. The Muslanders seemed to appreciate their appeal. In Johua, I had been an abomination.

That first few mornings after I had left Vnetor had been hell. I had not been sorry he was gone, but still, the visions of him disintegrating before me in an explosion of blood, tissue, and whatever shit else all over me had been enough to leave me puking even long after I had emptied the contents of my stomach. The dry heaving had been painful if nothing else. It had been several night falls later before what I had done had finally registered in my conscience and guilt had risen to haunt me in my sleep. I had done my best to bury that guilt, and over time, I had managed to do just that by keeping my focus on fleeing under the radar of the authorities over the last four sals. But all good things must come to an end. Even so, I would not go down without a fight. My freedom had come at a cost too high to have it simply be set aside for the sake of satisfying some meaningless written law.

My expression remained attentive, bland, and politely interested as I processed all these memories in my head while listening to Xion continue with his explanation on how the identity of Alfred Smint had been discovered after the preliminary dna scan.

I was zoning out after a while and decided to interrupt his flow.

"This is all very interesting," I said politely. "But I did not do it. I left right after my disagreement with Miz Wah, and as the nature of that disagreement is between Miz Wah and me, I see no reason to enlighten you on the matter. I can assure you, however, that it had nothing to do with what you say happened to Alfred Smint," I said, unaffected by that blatant lie. Self-preservation was always stronger than any attempts at satisfying a conscience.

"I had already spoken to Miz Wah, Sim, four sals ago in fact, and I know your disagreement was over his chastising your dress sense . . . which I see hasn't improved." He flicked an eye over my person, and then continued, "I have no wish to play games with you over this. There is more at stake than you know. I prefer to have you on our side and am happy to overlook the entire incident, but I need you to confide in me over what actually happened."

I nodded with what I hoped was an emphatic expression on my face. "I understand," I said soothingly and persisted, "but I cannot help you. I have no I idea what happened to poor Smint."

Xion sighed and straightened up. I was surprised to note that we were almost nose to nose. We had apparently unknowingly been leaning towards each other as we spoke. I noticed his surprised expression as he too became aware of this fact. I shrugged again to convey my own bewilderment.

He frowned in response, and then abruptly turned to Yi to give him a nod to go ahead.

I stiffened in response, tense about what may come next. I hadn't long to wait. Pol Ti had, at some point during the lengthy conversation, shifted behind me.

I felt the slightest whiff of air and twitched away in response as a dart flew right by me, its tail end scraping against my arm.

He had aimed at my heart, I was sure.

I was also sure the dart had been dipped into a truth serum.

Ovions rarely resorted to brutality during interrogation. They never had to. They had a natural hypnotic gaze that could influence most species effortlessly. Luckily, I was immune. I expected that that was what Xion had been trying earlier on. It explained the lengthy conversation as that was supposed to relax the victim to make them more susceptible. It also explained why I had zoned out during such a stressful situation that should have had my adrenaline pumping on the ready to do battle. As it were, I had just barely missed the dart.

There was a slight pause as the three - I decided to name them - took in my unexpected reflex action. I felt my lips open in a wide grin as I dropped into a combat stance I had last used two years ago in a pit fight in Bawil district on Planet Iorth.

It had worked well enough then, a skill I had picked up from my Iorth friend, who was a highly skilled physical-combat master. He was retired and made his living off the fighting pit since that was more lucrative. Since he was fairly well-to-do, that had been a good enough indicator for me to accept his combat skills as superior. And since it was strictly a non-Johuan stance, I felt reasonably confident that the element of surprise it offered would give me a fair chance against the three.

I should have known better. Within the first few strikes, I was flat on my back.

I admit to being a little out of practice. My usual workout routine, which amazingly included my regular leaps in and out of Ollie, did not contain the extensive defence training as these guys practiced regularly.

Still, I took pride in being able to get in five strikes before I had fallen. Not that my strikes hit the mark. There was no one more limber than the Ovions after all. I consoled myself on my swift defeat, all the while ignoring Xion's dark gaze boring holes into mine. Then, abruptly, he sighed in defeat. Yeah, like I was buying that. As if.

Xion crouched over me, his eyes searching mine for . . . acquiescence? He slowly released his hold on my wrists, allowing me to lower my arms. But he kept his position on me and sat up.

He was not too heavy as most Ovions weren't despite the size and muscle mass. All Ovions were toned and light and moved with fluidness as if they could defy gravity.

Maybe they could. I am sure there are many hidden secrets about them, especially since they were so skilled in security. They would know not to reveal all their hands. I practiced that very policy too.

I lifted a brow at him.

"All right. I should have known you would be difficult. Your Vnetor records had indicated as much," he said matter-of-factly. That was not very nice. I was sure what he meant by difficult referred to my character and not my abilities since he had me flat on my back with too much ease. I shrugged in response, not trying to struggle, knowing that would be useless against him.

"I am from mainland Johua, not Musland's Ovion Centre as you might expect. I am here solely for you. The Ovion Sec was alerted to have you in custody for interrogation." He paused to asses my scared look.

Pleased with my response, he nodded and then continued. "I am not really here about the Miz Wah incident, although I would like to explore that incident with you as well . . . I am here about your procreator," he said, coming to the truth of the matter at last.

"My sire?" I questioned in doubt, not at all expecting that line of questioning, thinking of the horrible adoptive family I had resided with before I had been enrolled in Vnetor. They were only part Johuans who were trying to blend in, but their inferiority amongst such a superior race had made them very bitter. I had been culled of that bitterness on joining Vnetor. The hard drive to train to push myself to excellence had wiped out any such energy-depleting thoughts. I had never revisited my adoptive family since. The bitterness I felt towards them, however, had not been culled. Likely, it had intensified into much more.

Seeing my displeasure at that thought, Xion rushed in to continue, "I meant your genetic parentage."

"I don't even know my species, let alone the source of my genes."

"Yes, I am aware of that. However, I think we are somewhat almost through with decoding your genetic origin. I believe there were a few unknowns in the structure that we were unable to trace as I believe those elements of your genes were sourced from an unexplored zone or even, perhaps, a restricted zone."

I listened with unfolding confusion, shocked at what he was implying. "You were investigating my dna?" I asked incredulously, and then not giving him time to answer, I asked, "Are you saying I am some sort of an abomination?" Ironically, that was what I had always been called back at Johua when I had resided with my adoptive family. It had been merely vindictiveness from half-siblings around my age, but it had still hurt, and it had sort of stuck. Then what Xion was really saying sunk in.

"I was created," I breathed out in a whisper, finally subdued.

"Yes, exactly," Xion replied to, I suspect, all my rambling thoughts. He looked pleased that I had finally promptly picked up on something.

"Why?" I asked, while I made a conscious effort to gather some semblance of control over my haywire thoughts.

"It was from our routine investigation over Alfred Smint. Your dna was all over the crime scene," he continued, either misunderstanding my question or simply wanting to redirect this conversation to his own ends.

"Gee . . . I didn't know that," I muttered vaguely in reply to his probing look. I had been delusional in blocking that possibility from my mind. Knowing full well it had been more than a possibility.

"When we ran it through the screen, a warning prompt was flagged on the system. Unknown species." He raised his brow at me to assess my shocked response critically.

"Unknown? What does that even mean?" I was confused, thinking there must be some legit explanation over this.

"It means, quite simply, your dna code is not in any of the records in any of the United Galactic Databank. You are a definite unknown. It rather explains the obvious," he further added, nodding to my voluptuous form.

I frowned back, not willing to go there with him.

"I am from the unchartered zones?" I asked.

"That is likely. However, our suspicions lie more towards specifically genetically engineered," said Xion, patiently repeating himself for me. I was almost liking him.

"You have some traces of identifiable dna," he responded to my uncomprehending frown. I was unusually sluggish in processing all this.

"In fact, it could all be identifiable, but the whole process was very skilfully applied so that we could not even pick out the genetics that we did feel were somewhat familiar." He gave a slight pause. "You have a very skilled creator," he concluded in summary.

"Who is he?"

"We are not sure, but as we said, there are few who have the skills and resources to do this and fewer still who have the guts for as you well know, tampering with genetics, especially on this scale, was banned centuries ago." He paused, then leaned towards me, and met my gaze head-on.

"You, my dear, should never have been born," he said accusingly.

My hackles raised. I frowned back, refusing to let him get the better of me. I smoothened my expression and asked, "So, what do you want with me? I know nothing of this. Why come after me?"

"We need your help, of course."

"How?" I asked, confused, knowing that they probably knew as much about me as I did. Their research into my background would even have uncovered more knowledge than I held about myself . . . in fact it had, I reminded myself.

Xion leaned in closer. We were once again almost nose to nose now. He continued to gaze steadily at me. Determined to intimidate, I'm sure. I gazed back steadily, determined to withstand. This was getting ridiculous. I almost felt like laughing, hysterically.

"You have an inbuilt tracker," he said shocking me yet again. This was getting routine by now.

"I what?"

"A genetic tracker encoded into your dna. Whenever your blood goes under the scope, it automatically pings an alert."

Catching on, "That means..," I started, only to be interrupted.

"Yes!" he exclaimed with much dissatisfaction. "Your sire is well aware we have you under our radar so to speak. In fact, he knew of it four years ago."

"That's when you did the scope . . . you've held back your investigation . . . intentionally?" I asked, finally grasping an understanding. It had not been my ingeniousness that had kept me out of their hands over these many years. They had probably known of my every step before I had even taken it. I felt a moment of vast disgruntlement . . . and mortification . . . which I did not have the time to indulge in, so I went on the attack.

"So what prompts you to act now?"

"Have you heard of Bimas Chawley?" he asked, evading my question.

I pondered momentarily, considering returning the favour, but then said, "Yeah, I've heard some about him. Why?"

I could see him ponder over how much to reveal, then finally, "He is your sire," he said bluntly.

I gasped, my last breath stuck somewhere in my chest. After a moment of heaving, I managed a clear breath. That was one shocker too many. I looked at him disbelievingly.

"Our hackers just managed to trace that tracking signal from four years ago," Xion finally admitted.

"It took four years?" I politely enquired.

He saw through my mild amusement and, with a snort of contempt, explained, "I was told it was a very impressively camouflaged. They had to trace back to every medic visit you ever made and locate similar strains in order to decode the whole trace," he abruptly finished as he gave a dismissive nod to Pol Ti to have me taken back to my cell.

Apparently, the interrogation was over for today. This was just as well, since I had lots to think over.

I waited patiently as Pol Ti summoned back my two initial escorts.

"But I have to admit, four sals was a bit of a stretch. We are still decoding the trace, but we have identified several of the stops that can be linked to Bimas," he continued as if the long uncomfortable pause after his last speech had just been my imagination . . . likely, it had.

"You mean it's still being decoded?" I sputtered incredulously.

I automatically followed my escorts out the door. I was starting to sound like a fish out of water here. I can't even begin to imagine the complexities required to develop something like that. Not surprisingly, there was no response from Xi.

He had rightly chosen to ignore that question too.

Chapter 4

Warp, a Distortion of Something

SIM

The sleek lines of the newest in aero fleet broke through to the outer atmosphere of Lycus. I looked back at the sandy-brown visage that Lycus projected into space.

Lycus had a unique geocomposite. While the air was breathable for most known species, the soil was infertile. Only the sturdiest of flora and fauna were able to adapt to its harsh climate conditions and the strong soil mineralisation. The enriched soil was the key asset of Lycus. Mineral salts extracted from the soil formed most of the export of Lycus. The planet was unique in that it did not orbit a star like other planets in the universe. Lycus was situated in equal distance between two solar systems and, as such, shared two suns.

It was said that Lycus was a spin-off from a now extinct galaxy that had been absorbed by a black hole produced at its centre from its own self-imploded central sun that had gone supernova some billions of light years ago. The spin-off was said to have happened when a passing meteorite, on being pulled off course by the gravitational suction of the black hole, on impact, nudged Lycus off its axis and set it free, spinning away from the gravitational pull of the black hole, to finally settle wedged between two solar systems on the outskirts of the adjacent galaxy.

Lycus was, therefore, exposed to solar rays the whole planet over. That ensured that the planet remained bone dry on the surface. The flora on the planet had deep roots that went a distance beneath the crust to access the water beneath. The fauna sought its water directly from the flora.

The sophisticated inhabitants of Lycus drilled Hydro wells and drew their water needs from the icy centres of Lycus. Existing on the fringes of two solar systems ensured Lycus retained the icy core it established from the spin-off from its original solar system. The icy centre of Lycus ensured a consistency in the surface structure of Lycus. Its surface was mostly flatlands that spread far and wide. The lack of seismographic activity and high atmospheric pressures work together on the mountain ranges had that formed in the beginning of Lycus through a catastrophic meteorite event, to have eroded overtime leaving the Ovion Passing, the sole backbone of Lycus.

I recalled what I knew of Lycus as was my habit on leaving any planet . . . sort of a last refresher before I departed. I somehow knew I would not be returning anytime soon.

The core inhabitants of Lycus were made up of the Muslanders and the Hydrits. Hydrits lived to the west of the Ovion Passing in a place called Avalon, while the Muslanders resided in Ovion.

Once a modicum of calm permeated my thoughts, I moved on from the geologies of Lycus to my friends there, whom I'd never see again and who would be wondering over my sudden disappearance.

I thought too about my last credits, which I had yet to collect, a loss I was not too fond of, not one I could afford. My Ollie and my meagre worldly belongings, all left behind for the scrap mongers to divide amongst them as I'm sure they would before long, as soon as they noticed I hadn't returned.

I broke off these depressing, tear-jerking thoughts and turned my attention to other depressing thoughts.

Bimas Chawley, my sire. That was almost as good as saying, 'Hey, I won the fate syindicus.' Although, in no way did I feel like I have just secured an infinite amount of credits as I was sure Bimas Chalwey was worth.

However, clear as rain, he wanted no part of me. My admittance to Vnetor was now self-explanatory. Bimas could do anything. Indeed, he had something of a bad rep in moving the unmovable and fixing the unfixable and most always not in a good light.

I had spent my last two days in Lycus trying to recall all I knew of him and interrogating my two cellmates over what they'd heard about him too.

The new cellmate had finally gained consciousness later that first day.

The prince and I had had a good time interrogating him. We had been surprised to discover that his presence in that cell was also related to the prince.

Joffry Windag had had a self-appointed mission to find the prince. He had been his avid stalker of many sals and had been disappointed at losing sight of him.

Having stalked him for so long, he had not bought into the propaganda that the prince had been off vacationing in Bonnyville. His persistent questioning had had him tossed into his present abode.

It was ironic the way he had finally met up with his idol.

My dearest friend Pol Ti had had the privilege of escorting me to the air centre. I had been a little disgruntled to note that I only required one security escort. I had commented as such to Pol Ti.

"Only one of you," I had said baldly.

He had grinned and said with a shrug, "Only one needed."

I had frowned at him. "You had a whole team when you first tried to catch me."

"We didn't just try, we did catch you," he had snorted arrogantly. I had cocked a brow at his arrogance.

"It's our policy to use local employment where possible," was all he had grudgingly said by way of explanation. He had waved his hand to encompass the local scene. "You know, to boost local job market," he had said.