Chapter 32: The Price of the Leader

Oxadus turned slowly.

His oval, opaque eyes settled on Zaulan with a calm that had no need to raise its voice to be felt.

—From the sound of your voice, I can tell you fear that your own creation will surpass you and turn against you.

Zaulan didn't look away.

—That will never happen. I won't allow it. I created you with a limit.

Oxadus didn't respond right away.

He began to walk, slowly, from one side to the other, as if the conversation were something he could process at his own pace. He lowered his gaze to his own hands. He studied them. The dark gray skin with scales. The long fingers.

—It's amusing —he said—. You gave me this particular appearance. This dark gray skin with scales, a long face, long ears, and this curly hair.

He stopped for a moment.

—I have the appearance of a race you became obsessed with. —A brief pause—. I don't know what to call this. Whether an obsession… or your greatest failure.

Something moved inside Zaulan that wasn't fear.

It was irritation.

The way Oxadus spoke. That superiority that didn't ask permission to exist. As if he had forgotten exactly who had put him in that place.

—Remember that I am your creator.

He reached into his garment and pulled out a small object. A hologram screen projected from it. He entered a code without hurrying.

Oxadus's body tensed all at once.

An electric discharge from within. Invisible but devastating. Oxadus couldn't stop it. One knee hit the ground.

Lianeym entered the hall without announcing herself. Her steady step and calm presence contrasted with the tension floating in the air.

—There are bigger concerns than an argument about who needs whom —she said, with a calm that left no room for a response.

Zaulan looked at her for a moment, then shifted his eyes to Oxadus, and pressed the device one last time before deactivating it.

Oxadus dropped slightly forward. He opened and closed his hands slowly, feeling how long the motion sensors took to respond. A few seconds. Only a few seconds to recover control of his own body. In a fight, those seconds would be his death.

I'll find a way to remove that, he thought, without any emotion reaching his face. Every time he uses it, he steals precision from me. And precision is the one thing a being like me cannot afford to lose.

—I need you to assemble a specialized group —said Zaulan, turning toward Lianeym with the authority of someone who doesn't expect to be asked twice—. The ones who escaped must be found.

Lianeym inclined her head with measured respect.

—It will be done, Zaulan the Creator. We will bring them back.

—Don't notify me until you have —he added, coldly—. I don't want excuses. I want results.

Lianeym bowed again.

—I will fulfill my duty. Oxadus will as well.

Zaulan looked at them both for a moment, as if weighing the worth of that promise.

—I'll be waiting for your good news —he said, and left the hall without looking back.

The silence that remained was a different kind of silence. No electric threat. No active control. But Oxadus felt it just as heavy.

Lianeym approached and extended her hand to help him to his feet. He took it without thanking her.

—He believes I will always be under his command —said Oxadus, without raising his voice—. He is wrong.

Lianeym looked at him without surprise, without judgment.

—Calm yourself —she answered—. Your moment will come. But right now, what matters is finding the beings that escaped from Zaulan. That comes first.

Oxadus didn't answer. He simply opened and closed his hand one more time, making sure it responded the way it should.

For now, that was enough.

In the cargo zone, the blow came before the light.

A kick to the ribs. Then another.

Naiden’s eyes snapped open, instinct firing before thought. He pushed himself up in one movement, fists ready, eyes sweeping the space in every direction looking for Zaulan, looking for the guards, looking for the exit.

But there was none of that.

It took him a few seconds to understand that the place was different. No ceiling, only the darkness of the dome stretching over everything. The ground beneath his feet was mud, dense and heavy, sinking with every step and making even the simple act of staying upright difficult. And the smell. An unbearable smell that hit him the moment his body finished waking up.

He looked around and what he saw was something he did not expect.

Living beings. Dozens. Moving in silence, carrying, pushing, lifting. Not because they wanted to.

Naiden had no time to react before a shove knocked him from where he stood.

—Get to work —said the Vigilante, without even looking at him.

—What…? —Naiden frowned—. What is this place? What am I doing here?

The Vigilante shoved him again, this time harder.

—If you don’t start working right now, I will hit you.

Naiden still couldn’t make sense of anything. The place, the smell, the mud under his feet. And now this: the beings threatening to hit him weren’t made of flesh. They were mechanical. A single eye in the center of the face, cold and fixed, with nothing behind it.

The Vigilante raised its arm.

The blow never came.

A hard shove moved him out of the way, and it was Naiden who ended up on the ground. Before he could react, a thick and commanding voice came from above.

—What’s wrong with you? Are you just going to stand there watching?

The two Vigilantes stopped. They looked at the being who had just intervened, for a moment, and walked away without a word.

Naiden got to his feet, brow furrowed.

—Why did you shove me?

—I saved you from getting hit —the other answered, without shifting—. You were going to have a very bad time.

Naiden looked at him then. Really looked.

He was tall, more than expected. Dark blue skin, a powerful build, the kind of frame that isn’t built but forged over time and effort. There was no arrogance in his posture, only the quiet weight of someone others were used to following.

—My name is Jomukir —he said—. I’m the leader of the workers. All of us are here by force. We don’t complain. That doesn’t exist here. Only action.

—Follow me. I’ll show you the place.

He turned and began to walk.

Naiden followed, and then he saw it. Jomukir’s back was covered in scars. His long white hair fell over his shoulders and covered some of them, but the ones left exposed were visible at a glance.

Naiden said nothing. He just kept walking.

A little further ahead, Jomukir stopped.

—That group over there —he said, nodding— is in charge of excavating. With their bare hands. They extract the minerals. We have plenty of them.

Naiden looked at them.

There were several, crouched over the mud, pushing their fingers into the earth over and over. It took him a moment to notice what their hands looked like. Or rather, what they were missing.

Some of them had no skin left on their fingers.

—What happened to them? —he asked, without looking away.

—From digging so much —Jomukir answered, with the calm of someone who had been seeing the same thing for too long—. The skin goes. Their fingers bleed. Sometimes the bones break. And still they continue, until one of the Vigilantes in charge decides it’s enough.

Naiden didn’t answer.

There was nothing to say.

—There’s one thing I don’t understand —he said at last—. How can a being that isn’t alive decide when enough is enough and when it isn’t?

Jomukir didn’t stop walking.

—I don’t know. You’re asking me something I don’t have an answer to.

Naiden frowned.

—And why do they allow this? Where is the leader behind all of this? Why doesn’t he do anything?

Jomukir let out a short laugh, without humor.

—You haven’t lived long enough to understand, have you? He was the one who ordered all of this. We’re here because of him.

—That’s not right —said Naiden—. All of this is wrong.

Jomukir stopped and turned toward him.

—Then why don’t you do something about it?

Naiden opened his mouth. Closed it. He looked down.

Jomukir watched him for a moment in silence, then turned around.

—Good. Let’s keep going.

He led him to a space enclosed by low walls, without a ceiling. Inside, there were beings sitting directly on the ground. Eating. Or trying to. A ship passed overhead and dropped the food from the air, with no more care than if emptying a container. What reached the ground arrived covered in mud.

—This is where we eat —said Jomukir—. And before you ask, yes. That’s how we eat it.

Naiden looked at him.

—They treat everyone here like they’re garbage.

—That used to bother me the same way it bothers you —Jomukir answered, without looking away from the group—. With time I learned that here it’s about surviving or dying. Nothing more.

Naiden said nothing. He just looked.

They left the area and kept walking. That was when Naiden saw it.

A building that wasn’t very tall, white. A single wide and rough column held up a structure above it shaped like an oval, with windows so thin they looked like cuts in the wall. There was something about it that didn’t fit the rest of the place. It was too clean.

—What is that place? —he asked.

Jomukir didn’t stop or look at it.

—That’s where they watch us from. That’s where Lianeym, The Mandatary, is.

—The Mandatary?

—The second in command.

Naiden kept staring at the building. His gaze hardened on its own, without him deciding to.

Jomukir noticed.

—There’s no point in that. They’ll ignore you until you make a scene.

Naiden stayed a moment longer looking at the windows of the white building. Then he followed Jomukir.

They arrived at a wide open area. The first thing he noticed were the domes, dozens of them, scattered without any apparent order, built from thick and resistant material.

—That’s where we rest —said Jomukir—. You’ll have one. That’s where you’ll sleep.

Naiden scanned the area and saw what he expected to see.

—They watch this place too.

—They watch us all the time.

They kept walking until Jomukir stopped in front of a building unlike anything Naiden had seen up to that point. The structure was irregular, no windows, with a wide entrance that opened like a dark mouth. It looked abandoned, or at least it wanted to appear that way.

—This place doesn’t sit right with me —said Naiden.

—You’ll get used to it —Jomukir responded, flatly—. Go in. I want you to see what’s inside.

The entrance showed nothing from the outside. Only darkness. When they crossed the threshold, Naiden took a second to understand what he was seeing.

It was enormous inside. Much more than the exterior suggested. Living beings worked in every direction, bent over machinery and artifacts that just by looking at them were clearly too heavy to carry without effort. The noise was constant, metallic, without pause.

Jomukir looked at him.

—This is where you’re going to work. You’ll stay until it’s necessary for you to rest, and not before. —He paused briefly—. This place is where we create pieces and artifacts. When they’re ready, we carry them and take them to another location where they test what we made.

While he took it all in, Naiden thought:

I have to find a way out of here.

—So the beings I saw earlier, carrying those heavy objects… they came from here.

Jomukir nodded.

—And that's the problem. The distance to where we have to take them is long. With the mud, every step costs double.

Naiden was still looking around the fabrication center when something at the side caught his attention.

A living being was on the ground. Not working, not resting. Collapsed from exhaustion, unable to get up. And a Vigilante was standing over him, striking him.

Naiden took a step.

—If you get involved, you’ll pay the price —said Jomukir, behind him.

He didn’t hear it.

He launched himself at the Vigilante and with a single blow destroyed it.

The metallic sound of the impact echoed through the entire fabrication center. Several beings looked up. The silence lasted a second, two, before the noise of the machinery covered everything again.

Jomukir stared at the remains of the Vigilante on the ground, surprised by Naiden’s strike.

The other Vigilantes in the fabrication center didn’t wait. The moment they saw what had happened, they crossed the room in a single leap and surrounded Naiden. Three of them, weapons raised, forming a circle that left no room to move.

Jomukir stepped in between.

He pushed Naiden back and the Vigilantes switched targets without hesitation. Their weapons were wrapped in electricity and every blow they discharged against Jomukir echoed through the entire space. He dropped to his knees under the weight of the impacts, but didn’t move from where he stood.

Naiden stepped forward.

—No —said Jomukir, without raising his voice—. Stay where you are.

Naiden stopped. He looked around. The other beings in the place were watching in silence, not moving, not saying a word.

The Vigilantes kept striking for a while longer. Then they stopped. They returned to their positions as if nothing had happened, leaving Jomukir on the ground.

Naiden approached.

—Why didn’t you defend yourself? —he asked, anger still in his voice.

Jomukir raised his eyes.

—It’s not the first time this has happened to me. Haven’t you seen my scars?

—I don’t understand. Why did they hit you and not me?

—They were going to hit you. When I stepped in, they recognized me. —He paused—. The leader pays the price for everyone else’s mistakes.

Naiden looked at him. And then he understood. Not as an idea, but as something that settled all at once. Every scar on Jomukir’s back wasn’t his. It belonged to someone else. It was every time someone had made a mistake and he had taken the blow.

—Everyone stayed watching —said Naiden—. No one went to help you. They fear those non-living beings.

Jomukir began to get up, slowly, the effort visible in every movement.

—You’re wrong. I ordered everyone here not to get involved.

—Why would you say something like that?

—Haven’t you noticed the difference between them and me? —said Jomukir—. Look at my body. Look at theirs. I can take a lot of hits. My body is resistant. —He let out a short laugh—. Although there’s almost no space left for more scars.

Naiden didn’t answer right away.

—So something happened that made you make that decision.

Jomukir looked straight at him.

—Yes. They murdered many of the beings that were in this zone. With blows, the same way they gave them to me. From that day on I can’t allow another life to be lost in this place. Not while I’m still alive.

Naiden said nothing.

Those words reached him in a way he didn’t expect. He couldn’t explain it. He only knew that somehow, without looking for it, they had reminded him of his father.

In one of the halls of the palace, ten beings waited in silence.

Or almost in silence.

—Hey, Havaren —said a watery voice—. How much longer do we have to wait?

The one who had spoken was Thalmos. Obese, dark violet skin, with an appearance that made one uncomfortable just by looking at him.

—You should be more patient —Havaren answered, without bothering to turn around.

Then came the echoes. Firm steps resonating down the hallway.

—See, Thalmos? Here she comes.

Lianeym stopped in front of the ten. She looked them over for a moment before speaking.

—You have an order from Zaulan and Oxadus.

Nobody said anything. She continued.

—I need five of you to find some beings who fled from Zaulan. I want them back here.

Havaren smiled.

—Can we finish them off?

—No. —Lianeym’s voice left no room for interpretation—. But do whatever it takes to bring them back. No arms, no legs, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that they arrive breathing.

Havaren tilted his head. His red eye, with its small pupil, watched her with the same smile as before.

—Just tell us when.