Crimson Dawn

The rebel commander lived in a top-floor suite of the grand city tower, which was located in the middle of a large military zone surrounded by high fences and heavy security. The commander was in his mid or maybe late twenties, yet he already led the rebel army on the continent and was responsible for a vast area that stretched beyond the desert all the way to the coastal region. The DFLL troops from the four largest cities in the district followed his orders, guarding a territory four times the size of Vega Prime.

Lex wondered if Algernon Beaulac’s thick mustache was there to mask his young age, perhaps to avoid being seen as immature or inexperienced. The mustache didn’t seem to fit the boyish face beneath it, which had no sharp features, a thin, elongated face with a narrow jaw, a large nose, and small but alert, dark eyes.

"Do you drink?" Beaulac wore a red army cap and the rebel insignia on the sleeve of his uniform. He turned away from the liquor cabinet, swirling the blue-tinged liquid in the bottle he held between two fingers.

Lex nodded, and the commander poured two glasses before popping the cork back onto the bottle. He sent Arif over with one of the drinks, and Lex gripped the thick glass tightly in his hand. After Beaulac raised his glass from across the room, they both downed their drinks in one gulp.

"Forgive us for keeping you in that cage for so long," Algernon Beaulac said. "We needed to make sure whose side you were really on. We asked the settlers in the fields, and they told us you’ve always treated them well. You helped them when you could, and you left them in peace. That’s why you’re here now, because you chose the right path back then."

Lex’s eyes stared blankly ahead. His greasy hair hung in messy strands over his face. He was filthy, his clothes stiff with grime. With the empty glass still in hand, he stood in the room like a wild boy, one who hadn’t just escaped the jungle, but had lived in it, grown up in it, never knowing anything but the indifferent, cruel nature.

"I want my pendant back. Someone from your group stole it from me."

The rebel commander smiled at him. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the butterfly amulet, but instead of handing it back, he took a screwdriver and pried the pearl from its setting.

"What are you doing? Stop that right now."

But it was already too late.

"Do you know what this little thing is?" Beaulac asked.

Lex’s gaze locked onto the small sphere. Without the butterfly, it looked completely different, no longer a decoration, just a jet-black orb pinched between the commander’s thumb and forefinger. And suddenly, an image from his time in exile flashed through his mind—the hermit handing him the geode with the Black Orb embedded inside it, flawless, round, eerie, and dark.

"But the pearl in the amulet was white."

"We scraped off the paint."

So it was true ... the little thing the commander was holding between his fingers was the unknown material the whole world was searching for.

A whole movie of possible scenarios played out in his mind. But only one made sense, and it was the one he liked the least.

"You knew I was at that camp the whole time. That’s why you attacked. You wanted the Black Orb. But I had no idea I was even carrying it."

"You still might not get it," the commander said, "but you’re an important piece in this game. You’ve brought us something of immeasurable value. You probably want to know what the Black Orb is, don’t you?"

"I wanna know who Veela is," Lex said. "She’s the one who gave me the necklace."

The commander smiled. "Here in Rykuunh, we have the only research facility as advanced as the one in Vega Prime. I’ll personally take the Black Orb there tomorrow. There’ve been rumors about this material since the first moon colony was founded. We don’t know where it comes from, whether it’s an ore, or even if it’s natural. Some scientists believe it has to be man-made, but if so, not by human hands. The only thing we know for sure is that even in the smallest amounts, this material holds unimaginable power. And as you probably know, power means control over the world. Do you play chess?"

Lex didn’t respond. The word felt familiar somehow, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before or when he’d seen a chessboard.

"In any case," the commander continued, "in chess, there are kings and pawns. Anyone who thinks pawns don’t matter is a fool. They’re the most important pieces in the endgame. As you’ve proven."

Lex stared blankly into the commander’s dark eyes.

"I wanna know who she really is," he said. "She wanted me to leave her so I could bring you that thing."

"Veela." The commander said her name slowly, as if savoring it, letting it hang in the air like an echo, as though he needed time to fully contemplate its meaning. "There are many rumors about her. About where she truly comes from. Who do you think she is, boy?"

"Definitely not who I thought she was."

The commander laughed. "Kid, you have no idea. Veela leads the rebels across the entire planet. If life were a chess game, she’d be the king and queen combined. She’s the bishop, rook, and knight. She’s the white pieces, fighting against the black. She’s the leader of the Crimson Dawn."

Lex froze.

"That’s impossible," he whispered. "We were together in Vega Prime the whole time. She studies history. I met her at the university." He, struggling to make sense of his tangled thoughts, finally said, "I need to see her again. I have to ask her something."

"Oh, boy. You’re half a world away from the girl of your dreams. Forget her. Forget it." The rebel commander slipped the Black Orb into his pocket. Then he refilled his glass and took a sip. "You’ll never see her again," he said firmly. "Not even I have the honor of meeting her in person. Do you think my heart doesn’t dream of her? We all revere her and her family. But no one will ever catch Veela. She’s a symbol, she’s untouchable, and that’s the way it should be. Because you can only look up to things that are beyond your reach. It’s those kinds of figures that push us forward, making us strive to get closer. The tragedy is, we don’t realize that every step we take toward them, they take one away from us. Maybe you thought you could have Veela, but you were wrong."

The boy looked at him seriously, but said nothing.

Suddenly, the commander laughed. "You’ll find a new love, my young friend. There are plenty of beautiful girls here in Rykuunh who would gladly give their hearts to fighters like us. Believe me, love is everywhere—if you know where to look. A future, on the other hand, is rare. But here, we offer you both. What do you say?"

*****

Rykuunh was about the same size as the district of Keldaraan in Vega Prime. The stone plateau on which the city was built, however, was so vast that it extended into a barren wasteland. It had little in common with the wide grassy plains of the savanna, where shrubs, bushes, and low trees were scattered about. The wasteland was a dry, dead desert, where the only plant life was the tough weeds that grew in the cracked clay soil's shadows. It was on this sun-scorched patch of land, far from the city that cast its long evening shadow over the region, that Lex began his training at the DFLL rebel camp.

Under the midday sun, they marched across the dusty terrain. It was a mutual test: the recruits learning about their new home, and the instructors testing the recruits' endurance. When they reached the open tents that served as their sleeping quarters, the group split for the first time, men and women slept separately. Lex glanced at the thermometer attached to one of the tent poles. It was already 106 degrees in the shade. The recruits picked up their uniforms from a small shed next to the mess hall and changed out of their sweat-soaked clothes. Everyone was issued sand-colored camouflage pants, shirts, and beige boots. That evening, in the mess hall, they received their first meal, a reheated ready-made dish, which Lex ate alone on a metal chair against the wall.

One early morning, before the other recruits had woken up, he stood at the edge of the plateau beside a large boulder. Sparkling dew coated the desert brush around him. The boy sat down on the edge of the lone rock, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, and let his gaze wander across the jagged highland, which seemed endless from up here. White fog filled the deep canyons, their winding paths stretching into the far distance. The smell of charcoal drifted through the crisp morning air. The boy didn’t move. To the east, the sky was bathed in a deep red, the halo of the not-yet-risen sun peeking over the mountains. It was still freezing cold. A sharp wind cut past his ears, his nose numb from the chill, and the cold of the stone beneath him seeped easily through the thin fabric of his recruit’s pants.

"Isn’t the view beautiful?"

The boy jumped. Internally more than externally, he hadn’t expected anyone else to be here in this isolated place. Least of all, the girl.

"This is the best spot in all of Rykuunh, if you ask me," she said. "On clear days, you can see all the way to the Great Sea. I’m here almost every morning. But today’s the first time I’m not alone."

He was already pretty frozen. Without standing up, his hands still in his pockets, he turned stiffly in the direction of the sea, though the distance was veiled by fog. The girl had traded her light summer dress for a beige uniform and tightly laced boots. Her thick, jet-black hair resisted the hairbands and cap she wore. Whether barefoot, in dancing shoes, or boots, everything seemed to suit her, she was beautiful in whatever she wore.

"You’re a recruit, too," he said.

She laughed, as if he should have known better. "I only wear dresses on Sundays. Muddy boots the rest of the time." Then she tapped her sleeve, where three stacked arrows were stitched into the fabric. "I'm not a recruit anymore, actually. I'm one of the instructors now."

"Does that mean you're my superior?"

"Obviously," she said, planting her hands on her hips. She looked him up and down. "And you, recruit? What's your name? Or do jungle boys not get names?"

"I'm Lex. Lex Marrow," he said, glancing once more into the distance, where the morning fog poured like liquid nitrogen from the canyon basins below. The freezing night would soon give way to the scorching heat of the day. The thin, fiery arc of Tau Ceti was rising behind the mountains.

"And are you going to tell me your name?"

She dropped her hands and folded them together. "I'm Mirela," she said.

He nodded. Gazing out over the land, for some reason, he avoided looking at her.

"Not a bad name," he said.

******

On a hot, sunny afternoon in the third week of his training, Lex checked his status on his PDA and saw that he had now reached Level 21. He had unlocked more achievements, like

Beast Mode: Survive the jungle for three weeks

Insider Access: Rebel HQ

Shots with the Boss: Drink with the rebel commander

and he had gained a massive amount of Experience Points through the training camp here in the wasteland, now holding the rank of Level 5 [Knight of the Dawn]. But he still didn’t understand exactly how his XP was being tracked, or what leveling up was supposed to get him in the end. Only one thing struck him as odd: there were different abilities listed, but all of them were still locked.

What was that supposed to mean? Why wasn’t he ready yet?

He switched off the hologram on his PDA as he sat with Mirela in the mess tent, a long bench shared with other rookies and instructors who were talking and eating together. The tent was more of a massive shade, with no walls, allowing the hot desert wind to blow through, sweeping dry sand over the rows of tables. They were served synthetic lamb in a spicy soup with fresh, cultivated onions, potatoes, and various vegetables, all heavily seasoned. There was also the same lamb mixed with scrambled eggs from cloned chickens in a creamy tomato sauce with a spiced paste. Sweat beaded on Lex's forehead from both the heat and the spicy food. He wiped his face with his arm and reached into the large communal pan, along with three other hands, to scoop up some sauce and meat with a piece of homemade flatbread, shoving it all into his mouth. Every bite of the otherwise delicious food crunched with sand between his teeth. That was something you had to get used to out here in the desert. Outside the tent, jeeps with mounted guns were parked, being meticulously cleaned and oiled by recruits. Chewing, Lex watched a mechanic on a creeper, welding a new catalytic converter under one of the vehicles, sparks flying. Lex took a sip of coffee from his cup. Hot, black, a little too weak, but there were plenty of pots of the stuff lined up on the table to help wake everyone up after endurance runs and strength training.

Just then, Arif walked by with a group of instructors. Lex’s eyes followed the men. They looked tense, greeting no one as they headed straight for the small podium set up on the west side of the tent, reserved for important announcements. Occasionally, it was used for other things, like when a tipsy recruit decided to turn on the mic after hours and belt out some folk songs a cappella. But the expressions on their faces made it clear this wasn’t one of those times.

Lex sipped his coffee and watched them closely. Even the rebels outside, busy tending to their machines, paused to listen. The mechanic crawled out from under the armored vehicle and wiped his oily hands on a rag.

"What’s he saying?"

Mirela sat straight-backed on the bench, raising her head above the other recruits to get a glimpse of Arif. Her thick, curly hair spilled out from under her military cap, with desert sand caught in every strand. "Quiet, Lex. I’ll tell you in a minute."

When Arif switched off the microphone, stepped down from the podium, and left the tent with the other instructors, he left something heavy behind, something that hung in the air, crushing the lively mood that had filled the tent during dinner. The rebels sat in silence, staring at their food for a long time. Occasionally, the clink of dishes broke the quiet, or someone coughed, then silence returned. The desert wind whistled through the open tent. Mirela’s face had gone pale.

"A war is coming," she said suddenly. "It might not start today, not tomorrow, but soon. The World Union launched an offensive on Shang’lar, the third-largest city in our district, last night. Shang’lar is the last stronghold before they reach the plateau. They’ll probably try to surround us. They’ll attack from all sides."

He couldn’t ignore the fear in her eyes, just as he couldn’t ignore the anger boiling in his gut. "Why are they doing this?" he asked. "Why start a war with us? We didn’t do anything to them, damn it. They can’t just invade our land and burn everything down."

"They can, Lex, and that’s exactly what they’re going to do. Arif said we have something the TC has been searching for a long time. He said that’s the reason for the war, but he couldn’t say more."

Lex glared at her, swallowing hard, staying silent.

"They’ll destroy everything to find it. I have no idea what he means, but that’s what he said. Lex? Are you still listening?"

He was frozen, paralyzed by fear, far more than the other recruits. It hit him immediately. Arif was talking about the Black Orb, the mysterious object he had unknowingly brought here, hidden in the amulet.

The guilt paralyzed him.

It was dizzying, a guilt that had appeared so suddenly it took his breath away.

"Lex, are you okay?"

"I…"

He had caused the war.

Without him, the Black Orb would never have been discovered. Without him, the secret would have stayed hidden on Limbo, lost forever.

"Did he say when it’s going to happen? When they’ll be here?"

"No, he just said we need to be ready. Depending on how well our rebels can fight back against the corporate forces, it could be a few days, weeks, or at best, a few months. But the day they attack Rykuunh and the other cities on the surrounding highlands will come. The war will hit us this year."

The boy nodded to show her he understood, but inside, his mind was elsewhere. Back on Limbo, his cold, dark home, the place he had wanted to escape from since day one. He was back in exile, in the cave where he had met the old hermit. He could see himself holding the geode, staring at the Black Orb encased within.

Suddenly, he could hear the old man’s words, as if some kind of magic was bridging the gap to that past moment, making it feel like the old hermit was truly speaking to him now. It wasn’t just a memory, he thought, it was as if the voice was right there in his head, every word crystal clear:

By giving you the Black Orb, I believe I am helping to set something inevitable into motion. But I don’t know how this artifact will affect the world, whether it will bring disaster or fortune. In my life, at least, it brought nothing but ruin.

Years later, on another planet, Lex knew that this artifact would bring him misery, too. It brought nothing but misfortune to everyone.

The Black Orb is a curse.

And now, he had carried the curse to Rykuunh.