Age of Space

“Come on, just tell us! Where did you get the gear to become so strong!?” Derek Ainstar, the bionic man asked eagerly. “Wait, don’t tell me you've actually found someone willingly open to perform genetic editing?”

“I can neither confirm, nor deny. Let’s just say I’m all natural for now.” Ronin replied.

It seemed neither his previous display, nor the fact that he was both injured and exhausted would keep the excited questions at bay today.

“He’ll be in your debt for years, if you do choose to tell him though. You have no idea how much of a gear freak Derek is.” Olsen Scar, The man with the CLM tattoo said.

Ronin began shaking his head “No No No I-”

“We should arm wrestle!” Bulkster interrupted, then began looking around for materials to create a makeshift table.

“Come on guys, I’ve just fought 50 people. Tomorrow, ok? We’ll do this tomorrow.” Ronin raised his hands, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

It was only after the arena fight that he’d begun talking properly with his cellmates.

Before, they’d been distant, never speaking what they truly thought. After showing them how dangerous he could be, however, he only had to explain himself with regards to what happened to Marvin before they let down their guard. He’d expected them to be wearier, not this…

He thought back to an hour ago when they'd all told him their real names. “I’m Olsen, Olsen Scar.” The CLM supporter had said, before following up: “That one over there is Derek Ainstar whereas the big fellow over on the bed here is of course Henrik.”

The big muscular giant snorted.

“Bulkster, not Henrik,” Ronin corrected.

Derek broke into laughter. “Bulkster! Hahaha, it fits.”

Scowling at the bionic man, Henrik then looked at Ronin. “You're a real man Ronin, so I don’t mind that name from you, but you-” He pointed at Derek.

“Ok, ok. I won’t call you Bulkster… Bulkster.” Derek quipped back with mischief written all over his face.

“What!? you-”

“We didn’t know what to make of you when you first arrived.” Olsen said, breaking off the banter.

“Last night made us even more worried, but the display in the arena pretty much showed us you could have done a lot more than what you did to Marvin and Pracksus. You probably would have gotten away with it too.” His lips curved into a slight smile. “You didn’t, and as for Marvin and his friend. Let's just say new cellmates had a tendency to disappear whenever they were around. They're actually the reason we were only 6 people here when you first arrived, instead of 10.”

It had made sense to Ronin when it was explained to him, but the underlying philosophical meaning was still confusing.

When acting friendly, it leads to violence, scheming and backstabbing. Conversely, when I act like a violent brute first, people become sincere, open and trusting. It was the complete opposite of everything he thought he knew about the world.

Despite his exhaustion from the battle, he entered his mind space and began working on opening the gate. If there was one thing he needed above all else, it was mental strength, and that gate gave off just the right feeling. Fortunately, he’d noticed that unlike the first gate, this one could be worked on bit by bit. This would be a long-term project, but in prison, there was nothing but time.

Mayor Brunstein was not in a good mood today. The terrorist organization calling themselves the Concordia Liberation Movement, had, before Operation Lightfall, been on quite the upswing. They'd not only been executing bigger and bigger operations as time passed, causing more and more damage, but they'd also been under the protection of a highly secure information network. On top of that, they'd been generously funded.

By whom? He didn't know.

After that operation though… It was as if they’d suddenly lost all their funding. Corrupt officials, previously on their payroll had begun giving up their locations. The previously steady shipment of arms and tech had stopped. It had been a dream come true. They'd finally begun beating back the terrorists. They'd been winning!

Too bad nothing good lasts forever.

Looking over the latest report, it became clear that the CLMs mysterious backer, was back. In addition, there was a new security issue arising. Ruddles.

I’d never expected a rodent normally dealt with by pest control to become a security issue, the seasoned mayor thought, shaking his head.

As he continued reading further into the report, he only became increasingly confounded until he finally couldn't take it anymore. He pinged his secretary.

[Miss Jersey, who was in charge of the section in the report concerning these…] He cleared his throat, [ruddles?]

[Mayor? Umm, that would be Group Captain Sima Hui sir. Want me to connect you up?]

[Please…] Exhaling heavily, he couldn’t help but wonder:

These creatures have never been an issue before. Mostly eating insects and acting as scavengers when desperate, they almost never grouped up. There weren't supposed to be that many of them left. The largest pack he'd ever heard about, was a group of a few hundred once, feeding off a nearby landfill site, just outside Ironglades.

[Sir! Is this concerning the ruddles?] The new voice of Captain Sima Hui spoke over the line, breaking his chain of thought.

[Group Captain… Do you even need to ask?]

[I guess that's reasonable, concerning the situation.] Barely missing a beat, the guard captain continued:

[The preponderance of recordings, eyewitness accounts and forensic evidence from the victims of these new ruddle swarms, makes this new threat undeniable. There are swarms in the hundreds of thousands roaming our city sir. People are afraid to leave their homes, transport services are refusing to travel to certain areas and factories have shut down. Just this week alone we've had over a thousand casualties.]

[I understand. Though I can hardly believe it.] The mayor sighed.

[I can hardly believe it myself sir.]

[I will order a curfew. Whatever else you need, just write it down and send the list over to my secretary. It will be taken care of.] He ended the call.

As he leaned back in his chair, however, his implant began ringing.

“What is it now?” He grumbled before pulling up the holoscreen. Minister Bladia Ungtari?

He mentally nudged the answer button.

[Yes?]

The holographic image of the aged, white-haired woman began talking: [Mayor, I’ve stumbled onto a bit of a problem concerning a dispute between the Space Force Academy and the Planetary Guard.]

[Alright minister, seeing as you’re calling me, it can't be that small now, can it? Out with it.] He answered, chuckling at the old fox.

Rising to the position of minister in Tar was no easy feat. But she’d done it, balancing her way through the snake pit called politics for decades.

[It seems a certain Wing Commander called Julius decided to earn some extra credit on the side. After fabricating evidence, he captured and imprisoned a student from the academy. Turns out, that student, is a highly valued genius and the academy is not happy.]

Brunstein facepalmed. Julius, you greedy fool. You finally went and did it didn’t you? Now you’ve stepped in a pile of dirt so big, even a minister is after you.

Sighing for the second time today, he followed up: [And I assume they want their genius back in one piece as soon as possible?]

The woman's hologram profile answered with a dignified nod: [Indeed, the principal himself personally requested me.]

[Alright, I'll see what I can do.]

He made a call to the Marshal; Today would be a busy day.

The days following his arena battle had turned out great for Ronin. No one had tried to collect on the bounty. He'd been a little suspicious of his cellmates in the beginning, but as time passed, they'd proven to be reliable.

Every morning, when it was time to run through the big door, people tried to avoid him, in essence translating into the prisoners' equivalence of a red carpet. He could now leisurely jog most of the way towards the door. It was only towards the end that the crowd got so tightly packed that nobody recognized him anymore. Towards the end, everyone had to struggle. The pressure from so many people trying to squeeze through a gap, inevitably led to a lot of pushing and elbowing in order to get through. At this stage, if you weren’t careful and tripped, the crowd would drown you, trampling you under the desperate stampede for the lifesaving masks on the other side.

Before beginning his dutiful job as a miner, he'd snuck off into the less crowded areas, removed his cuffs then begun practicing the stances from The Kalvrakian Embrace. The unrelenting corrosive pressure of the atmosphere seemed to accelerate his practice even more. Every other day he’d managed to lock in another stance. It was not before he attempted the 7th stance that he encountered problems. It was doable, but progress had slowed. Only after 5 days, did he finally lock it in, beginning on the 8th. This was when he noticed that something was wrong. After an entire day of practice, that is once before the morning alarm, once towards the end of his mining shift and now, once before bed, he’d only progressed by about 2%.

At this rate it would take 50 days to complete the next stance... What am I missing?

Before he could think more on the issue, he was interrupted by the large burly man sitting next to him.

“Again!” Bulkster shouted.

Ronin rolled up his sleeves and placed his arms, still in cuffs, back on the makeshift table, ready for another round of arm wrestling.

The comparatively larger hand engulfed Ronin’s as the contest began.

When they'd begun this daily ritual, he’d lost each and every exchange they'd had. The larger man’s bigger arms and better technique had won out easily in the beginning, but Ronin was a quick learner.

“It will just end like last time. You can’t beat me, not anymore.” He said, pulling the two interlocking hands closer to his side of the table.

“Arrogant!” The bigger man grunted, leaning his entire body closer to compensate for the loss of leverage.

It would not be enough though. Ronin had put on some muscle after the alien infection, but that was not the reason for his strength. The foreign energy from the alien artifact permeated every cell, forever changing them into something else, something stronger. Now that he’d mastered the arm-wrestling technique, he’d never lose against Bulkster again.

Clamping down on the table with his elbow and knee, he slowly lowered the bigger hand down.

“Dammit!”

“It’s no use Henrik, he was always stronger. It was only a matter of time before he’d learn enough to beat you, there's no point in trying anymore.” Derek Ainstar, the bionic man said.

“Unlike you, I’m not the kind of man who gives up.”

“It's called being smart, I didn’t fight the Planetary Guard when they came to demand I pay my taxes.”

“We've already talked about this! I’d already paid my taxes, but they wanted more. Of course I had to stand up for myself.”

Yeah, out of every possible crime the big man could have been in for, tax evasion was the last thing on Ronin's mind when he’d heard. Kind of difficult to imagine, considering how much he enjoyed the brutality down in the arena.

“By the way, anyone interested in coming along to watch the meteor shower tomorrow?” Olsen Scar asked.

Meteor shower? More importantly… we’re in a prison inside a literal mountain right now! How?

Probably noticing his confusion, the CLM man chuckled.

“There are pathways out of the mountain. We'll have to work for a few hours more, but if your body can handle the extra burn, it's well worth the show. “

“Naw, I’m not into that kind of stuff.” Bulkster brushed him off.

Derek simply pointed towards his metallic parts: “No can do.”

Olsen looked over at Ronin, “What about you? Only happens once every year.”

“Sure, why not.” A meteor shower on a new planet? Of course I'm going!

“...”

After having made up his mind on going meteor watching with Olsen, Ronin got back into his daily routine of grinding away at the gate in his mind palace. He was so close now. 30 minutes of grinding turned into an hour. The hour became 3 hours before finally, the precipice was in sight.

With a decisive last push, the gate blasted open and with it came not memories this time, but experience.

“...”

Sitting on a meditation mat, Ronin gazed at the instructor with fervor.

“The endless path is a lonely journey. Not a single warrior of eternity has not had a mind of steel. Souls break under the weight of truth; the heavens seek for all things to return to origin. How do you defy it?”

In response, Ronin, as well as all the fellow aliens stood up and began roaring at the heavens. Ronin felt it, in that rage was an indomitable spirit, unyielding and ferocious, willing to stand against anything.

As the vision of the instructor faded, the scene changed and a series of battles flashed by: Hundreds, then, thousands, every single one different. In each and every battle, a singular purpose remained constant. That very same indomitable spirit used every technique, every emotion felt, be it the despair of defeat or the euphoria of victory to build upon itself. The experience accumulated more and more until, finally, right at the end, a battle soul was forged.

Battle Soul: A warrior soul forged to withstand eternity. Forged with struggle, instinct, technique and will.

What an incredibly versatile art! Perhaps I could even use this in virtual reality?

Then he felt it, the backlash. His mind palace rumbled, and cracks began expanding. Argh! He mobilized his nascent battle soul in an attempt to mitigate the damage, but this gate was much larger than the last one. The battle erupted; unstoppable damage caused by an overloaded mind washed over him as an indomitable will to resist fate rose up in defiance. The expanding cracks met an increasingly stronger resistance. The pain radiating from his mind fueled his will. The struggle empowered him. But in the end, he was still injured.

Opening his eyes, it was dark in his cell. He should have been able to see, but he didn't, not anymore.