“What a waste,” Mallory grumbled as she made away from Lomoll’s complex, so frustrated she did not notice a slight glitch in her instrumentation. Apparently, the dragon was right; she might be able to sell the trinket to some museum. Something was still not quite right about this, though. The DNA test had to mean something. Perhaps a better, more trustworthy scientist from the Mercenary Guild could give her some answers. There was no way this millennia-old artifact could possess living genetic code to the specific extant that it did. Unless…
Suddenly, a silver wedge cut in front of her with a demonic shriek. Almost immediately she realized how a ship could evade her sensors without making everything in her scopes disappear: a Jam-veil. Designed to simulate normal ship traffic, it had to be planted beforehand on an unsuspecting vessel that was to have its sensors jammed. That insane charge in the courier ship. That’s when he planted it.
Unlike the humble little craft she previously encountered, this one was a match for hers. It viciously pursued her with automatic laserfire, hitting her enough chew away at her shields and slow her engines down. Presumably the rapid fire was a psychological move. She had trouble shaking the sleek ship, but she managed to get enough of a glimpse to identify its model: a Sigil Industries Ermine-class light yacht. Looks like she’s had some work done, too. No doubt he must have had the faulty transdrive replaced on it.
Had she not been taken by surprise, Mallory might have put up an even fight, but eventually a couple ion bolts nearly disabled her ship, forcing her to the ground. The Ermine landed fast enough to rob her of any time to mount a ground defense. By the time Mallory had unbuckled herself, her foe had already blown a whole in the main cargo hatch, and she heard abdominal stretch of a dragon’s preparing to breathe fire. As the main hold was filled with flame, she was forced to pop her canopy open, provoking some suppressing fire from its port side, and jump out on her starboard. Unfortunately, the dragon was suspecting this move as if he had intentionally cornered her into it. His axe-like tail hooked onto her feet on the way down, and he flipped her dismissively onto the soil. She attempted to get up and despite a strained wrist, but the brute disarmed her with his tail, knocked the air out of her with a kick, and checked her against her ship. He then propped her up against the hull and began to smother her with his massive stomach. Mallory had no hope of breaking out of this; in desperation she bit at the rolls of fat that threatened to engulf her face.
“OW! Dammit!” Pyrodox yelled as he reeled back. What a wuss. After all I went through and a little nip gets a reaction from h- Mallory screamed in pain herself as the dragon kicked her leg in rage and pinned her against the hull more dramatically than last time as his little arms flailed impotently at her. Soon enough, he regained his composure and calmly put pressure on Mallory’s neck until she lost consciousness. Mallory woke up with a splint on her leg and a bundle of credits for her troubles. She was just in time to watch the bulbous stern of the Ermine disappear into the sky. The skull was gone.
There was one way someone could have pulled that trick with the skull. Mallory’s uncle knew of a long-forgotten, ancient shrine on a distant planet. He had shown it once to her and her adoptive father. Armos T’Coan. The Well of Time. But how could anyone else in the galaxy know of it? Let alone without her uncle’s knowing? Unfortunately, those two were busy on some sort of timeline related…thing. No matter. She just wanted to make sure of something. And she didn’t want to risk letting her association with them get found out.
Orimon was a distant planet that few people ever visited. No remaining civilization tended to its ruins. Most likely whoever lived here had somehow gone extinct before mastering space travel. Mallory entered its icy caves and proceeded down one of the paths she was sure a dragon would not be able to fit through. She eventually found the medium sized room, decorated with deteriorated stone arches and housing a stone font. She was about to case the area when a deep drawl saved her the trouble.
“I was wondering if you would find yourself here,” said Pyrodox as he emerged from one of the larger doorways. He was now wearing a skull identical to the relic, albeit fresher-looking. “Don’t bother with your weapon. I have no quarrel with you, girl.”
“You broke my leg, damaged my ship, and took my bounty.”
“So much aggression. I was only lovingly witnessing to you about how I am not one to be fucked with.”
“You set up my comrades for death.”
“Please. I thought I made clear to you that my only sin against them was flattery.”
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“No, it belongs to me. And it always has. You see this skull in some ways has always been my destiny…”
“Why Manriol? Why him of all people?”
“You know, I don’t really know myself.” Pyrodox looked up for second. “Well, I might have known…once upon a time. Perhaps he was destined for bigger things himself.” Considering Manriol’s “philosophy” it was probably good that these “bigger things” would never come to fruition. The dragon looked pensive and advanced toward the Well. “You know, I would destroy this occult abomination if I could.” He sighed, looking distracted in a way that Mallory knew better than to trust. “All I know….is that when I was a young boy…I received that skull as gift. With it was a single message:
This is Alliason Menrik Manriol of Haradia VI.
Born 458379.
You will kill him. You will be feared.
It assured me that one day I would make a name for myself. That this man’s death… was my destiny.
“The funny thing is…we’re all slaves to some design beyond our own. Even our choices are part of it. Maybe the first time around I was arrogant enough to think I could change my past with this message. But life…and my family…had other plans for me. Plans that didn’t work. It took forever to find my place, to make a difference. But the whole time I knew that I had to find him, and I had to send him back. Because that’s the way it always was for me.”
How many times had he sent that skull back in time to himself? How did it happen the first time? He had no way of knowing exactly who he was then.
“And now I no longer have to worry about what I knew was already written for me. Well, at least I-I don’t have to worry about it. And now I’m free.” He then looked directly at Mallory. “I suppose we’re both free to fight over this. But I’m warning you. As I said before, I am sentimental.”
Mallory could see him tense for battle. She suspected that this was not worth her trouble. “I have other jobs to deal with. I trust they’re not sentimental enough for you to get your fat ass involved.”
“Depends, what kind of jobs?”
“None of your business.”
“You already told me much of your business simply by coming here,” he responded as they began to part ways. “Oh, and by the way…tell The Traveler I said ‘Hello.’”
Mallory discussed the matter with her uncle when he was available. Amazingly, he had never heard of this Pyrodox. In the following months he scouted Coroba, sensing temporal anomalies surrounding many of its inhabitants, regular people who originally should not still be alive. A new religion was beginning to take root among the populace…
An elegant silver space yacht penetrated the labyrinthine space storm and arrived at the dark, mysterious planet hidden inside. It flew into its perpetually stormy atmosphere and landed in the hangar of a large, monolithic temple which was adorned with ornate reliefs, most of them skeletal in nature.
Elder Saleria greeted the dragon as he disembarked from the vessel, knowing that this particularly troubled disciple would have some sins to confess. He would secretly prefer to be left alone with his studies and translations, but he dutifully carried out the role of Confessor and guide to this particular layman. It wasn’t too subtle that the other elders took advantage of his meekness to saddle him with a problem child, but all the sheep need guidance.
The dragon looked down at the slight figure garbed in a robe and skull mask. “The situation on Coroba is proceeding as planned, Elder. I trust that the donations of the Faithful have spurred missionary work in the area?”
“They have, my child, though I trust you weren’t too dishonorable in your way of going about it?”
“That’s something I might need to talk to you about.”
“I see. I’m not comfortable myself with this nation-building, either, brother Wynfrith.”
“Especially considering the UGA’s recent track record.”
“Yes, yes…”
Pyrodox was not comfortable with the Church of the Skull’s doing anything that could be mistaken for the UGA’s policies, but they had to start somewhere. He walked toward the sanctuary with the priest who had become his trusted mentor. “You know, I think I’m starting to make progress on some of your advice, Elder.”
“Hm?”
“I think I started making friends today.”
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