Fan Fiction ❯ Endless Power ❯ The Exarchs ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter 7

The Exarchs

The spy moved swiftly, slipping past the snoozing sentries and onto the facility grounds. The night breeze was calm, and he let the whispering winds light toss his cloak about, enjoying its cool touch on his face.

"Phase 1 is done commander," he thought out to his fellow tribesmen.

"Well done, Zen Tauros, proceed to phase 2," came the reply. "Remember, you must not be detected under any circumstances, or it will surely mean death. I trust in your abilities Zen, but don't let your pride get the better of you."

"I won't fail you this time," Zen thought back.

"Good. On behalf of our tribe, I send you my strength and courage. Good luck, Zen."

Zen smiled. It was always reassuring to hear the words "good luck" from his commander in chief, and godfather, Mojo Kazuma. Zen knew Mojo well, and it was typical for him to get worried about the safety of others. Still, he made himself a mental remark to stay alert and not take any chances.

Ever since he had become an adult, he had acquired much information about the inner workings of the tribe and the history of his people. They were the Exarchs, or as Mojo said, "the Dark Ones", though Zen had never really understood what he meant by that. That's what they call us, he would say, but he would never say who "they" really were. Zen had tried repeatedly to uncover the truth of their mysterious but past, Mojo would always sigh and tell him that he was too young to understand. It wasn't until his 19th year that his stubborn godfather had finally given in and told him the story of what really happened. In fact, it made Zen mad just thinking about. The Exarchs and "they", whom Mojo called the Xzari, were originally one race known as the Aviators. They had established an empire on the planet of Avanglion, which encircled a mystical artifact, which Mojo identified as the Crystal of Gon. Over the years, while the surrounding environment grew and died for many generations, the Aviators, strangely, weren't aging at all. Closer investigations led by the former king came up with shocking results. It seemed like the Crystal of Gon had been emitting a strange energy for thousands of years. Once in contact with the Aviators, the radiation caused their DNA to mutate. Not only did it seem like they had extremely long life spans, but they also grew physically stronger and more agile. It seemed like that fate had chosen them to be the warriors of the galaxy.

The king, a power-hungry berserker who was also known to be involved in corrupt affairs, immediately took this new incentive to his advantage and decided to start a revolution. They, he argued, were destined to be the sole rulers of the universe, the perfect race created by God to dominate all other races. The revolution quickly gained support, and many Aviators started forming war clans, whose purpose was to destroy anything and anyone that got into the way of their "destiny". Of course, there were many objections from citizens who didn't support the idea, but the king quickly made sure that no one would interfere with his plans. Gathering all the rebels, he cast them off onto another planet, and called them traitors, forever disgracing their reputation, and honor, which, Mojo said, was about the worst thing you could do to an Aviator. The Aviators are a proud race, he had explained. You could take away their heart, their body, heck, you could even take away their soul, and they could still live, because they would have their pride.

Zen frowned. He couldn't remember what happened right after the rebels were cast away, or maybe Mojo hadn't bothered to say…

However, he did know the details of his birth. It was a pretty exciting evening, his godfather had explained. "You were the first to be born on the new planet, Zenitus. I mean, there were a quite a lot of things going on," Mojo had said. "There were about a thousand of us rebels, and everybody was celebrating. It had only been a few weeks since we were exiled off to Zenitus, and our party was in the worst of states. Many of us had already died of hunger, and others were starting to lose optimism about the future. Your birth alone brought a sense of confidence and hope that we could still survive on the new planet. And that was Zenitus we were talking about, a cold miserable planet that didn't get enough light in a year to melt an ice cube. We had to rely on our bravery and perseverance to survive, and you gave that to us Zen." Indeed, the going was tough, and the rebels had to use their resourcefulness to survive. Every piece of food was rationed, and not a drop of water ever went to waste. The Aviators of course, were natural survivors, but they were also an extremely adaptable race. They could live in any environment, and it was this trait that led to a second mutation in the genetic code of the Aviators. The rebels, who were now formally known as the Exarchs, had been living their roaming lifestyle for more than 10 years. It was at this point that the change happened. Suddenly, they discovered that the new generation was smarter, stronger, and more agile. They could survive weeks without food, and their bodies were now capable of supporting itself for months without any water, recycling its own waste and reusing its precious resources that proved to be so rare in the swampy wastelands of Zenitus. But perhaps the most amazing part of their new metamorphosis was their gain in psychic abilities. Throughout their history, the Aviators had always been very talented in the use of psi, but what happened to the Exarchs was completely unprecedented. They acquired abilities never thought to be possible by any Aviator. They became extremely clairvoyant, and mastered the art of telepathy. Furthermore, the Exarchs now had two powerful new weapons at their disposal. The first was a basic move known as cloaking. By using their psychic powers, the Exarchs could bend the very fabrications of light, causing it to go around oneself, thus resulting in unflawed invisibility. The second weapon was a more advanced technique mastered only by the very elite. By sending a very powerful surge of psi, an Exarch could penetrate any being's mind and take total control over it. It was the use of this powerful skill that caused many Xzaris to fear the Exarchs.

Zen paused and sighed. It was time to complete the mission, not daydream about the past. He glanced about, taking in a full view of the facility. It was already dark, but this didn't bother Zen in the least. He was used to it. Living on his home planet of Zenitus had taught him many things, and if you were afraid of the dark, then you were practically useless, since nearly 96% of an entire Zenitus day was shrouded in darkness. Zen smiled slightly. There were 3 guards guarding the main entrance to the facility, all of them heavily armed with pulsed plaser guns. Zen had read about Xzari weaponry before and the plaser gun was indeed one of the more powerful arms available to the general infantry. However, they were still no match for the immense psychic powers of the Exarchs. Concentrating his power, Zen unleashed a powerful blast of psi that struck the oblivious guards, blasting them ten feet back into the wall. There was nasty crunching sound, and Zen grimaced, knowing that the three would probably never be able to walk again. Shaking his head sadly, he heaved another sigh and took off the ground at amazing speed. Within a second, he was at the gate. Slowly, he grabbed the shiny metallic handles. They felt cool to the touch. Then, without hesitating another moment, Zen Tauros opened the gate and stepped into the facility.

Darkness greeted him at every turn, but Zen pushed on. His entire mind was on the mission now, and he was careful not to communicate by thought. Though the Exarchs and Xzari were technically two different species, they both shared the same mental wavelength. He sighed lightly. Talk with Mojo would just have to wait until after the mission. Whipping around the next corner, he sped down the narrow corridor, letting the sound of his footsteps echo off the walls behind him. Suddenly, a shimmering of light behind him caught his eye. Zen spun around, but whatever the thing was had disappeared just as fast it had appeared. He drew back slightly and retraced his steps, counting off the doors to his left. 1,2,3,4,5,6,8… There was no number 7 door! However, there was a small, unexciting work desk which was leaning against the wall at exactly where door number 7 should have been. Filled with curiosity, Zen slowly moved toward the table. Before he knew it, his hand was reaching for the desktop. He was possessed by it, yet he couldn't do anything to stop himself. The warning came too late. As he felt his fingers tap the smooth surface of the desk, a rough pair of hands seized him by the arm and cuffed him. The sound of at least 20 guns being cocked filled the cramped hallway, and Zen hung his head, knowing that it was all over.

The man that he recognized as the one that cuffed him smirked as he reported the incident. "Zen Tauros, you are under arrest for the illegal trespassing of facility grounds and the killing of two soldiers of the armed forces."