Excerpt:

Years 23 post invasion
The testing station lay ahead. People filed past, eyes down, trying not to be noticed by the ominous black clad guards that stood outside, pulling people, seemingly at random, from the line. Nobody knew what was being tested for, nobody knew what lay within. Those pulled out of the crowd as they moved forward to be “tested” did not remember what happened, and those that had apparently passed the “test”, never returned. Where they went, nobody knew- all anybody knew was that they did not come back.

Martin shuffled forward like the rest. As with everyone else, he kept his gaze down. The uniforms of the invaders always made him think of the pictures of the knights from the old days- metal clad warriors that rode over all those that dared to face them. The invaders were the same. They appeared, and their superior weaponry and armour meant that the peasantry, the humans, which stood against them got massacred much as the ancient foot soldier got massacred when they tried to stand against an armour clad knight. A few knights might have been brought down by a massed attack, but, in general, their armour ignored the lesser weapons of the peasants arrayed against them. So it was- a few invaders died, a mere handful, but on a planet on which once 7 billion people lived, loved and breathed, under a billion remained alive.

Ahead, the shuffling people sped up. Nobody really thought about it- but as they got closer, the crowd got agitated. Everyone feared that armoured gauntlet grasping them, shoving them into the maw of the testing station. So they sped up, shuffled past, eyes down, until they passed by. Martin was no different- shuffle, turn away, get past lest you be noticed and turned aside. Get to the school, learn the days lesson, and hope that you were allowed to remain a child though past sixteen and the time when most were sent to work assignments for the invaders.

“Stop,” a softly spoken command, a voice sibilant and low, compelling and authoritative, and the crowd stopped. Armoured, shadows in the dejected crowd of the cowed and defeated humanity, the invaders stalked forward. Four of them, three carrying the short batons that served as a weapons- be it in as mundane a fashion as shocking a recalcitrant slave into obedience to firing a beam of pure energy accurately enough (no doubt guided by hidden sensors within that helmet) to bring down a jet plane or to burn through the armour of the strongest tank, stalked forward. No one looked at them- after all, who would want to attract their attention. Stay low, stay quiet, and pray that you are not the victim they seek. Shivering, Martin stood, eyes down, desperately hoping they would pas shim by. Never before had the crowd been stopped, never before had he seen the guards come forward- or perhaps they had, but never when he had been on his way to or from school, the only time he came past the feared testing station.

Silence fell as people stood in their places, even in this break from the routine people did not look up. Instead, they fell even further into themselves no one wanting to be seen, the focus of the menacing beings. Martin scrunched up. Short in comparison to most around him, he became even smaller, his shoulders rounded, his head bowed. Around him silence had fallen, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the crowd to move, waiting for the fear to be abated and for it to be someone else that they sought. He closed his eyes, trembling, trying to control himself even as he felt his bladder would burst. So it was that he felt their presence, rather than saw them approach him. The whining of a maladjusted servo alerted him, and he inclined his head but an inch to see the invader standing next to him. He tried to hide his face, but even as he did, he noticed another standing in front of him, and he feared that the other two would be there as well.
“Come,” the voice was metallic and soft, completely impersonal. Did a machine speak or the being in front of him? He could not know. They started walking, and Martin followed. What would happen if he did not? The silence around him remained, but was soon displaced by the scuffling of feet as people resumed their journeys. Martin despaired, why did they want him? Who would explain to his mother why he did not come back from the school today? Did someone see him, know him? Would someone take his tale back to his mother? He followed, his fear would not let him do anything else. Fear of the black clad shapes around him would not let him flee even as the testing station loomed ahead, even as it grew and he realised that soon either he would be one of those who had forgotten, but bore an unholy fear of this place, or he would be one of those that disappeared, never to return.

Stepping through the door, Martin felt the air change. Outside it had been cool, a slight breeze blowing. Inside, one was struck by the heat as you entered. The room was tiny, hot, steam filled- breathing was difficult from the water vapour that clogged every pore. Yet next to him he heard a sign of relief. Turning, he turned and saw that one of the black clad figures had entered with him and was removing its helmet. Evidently, the invader being well over two metres tall, heavily muscled and armed, felt no threat from a mere human bore, barely half his height and suffering from the standard malnourished physique of those left alive.

Martin examined the first of the invaders he had seen out of his armour. The face looked almost human, but instead of a nose three gills rippled down each side of its neck. Its eyes were long and slitted, a nictating membrane opening and closing, flicking across the black eyes protected by a boney ridge instead of eyebrows. The mouth was a slit, the lips thin and sharp teeth fitting closely together could be seen behind them.

“Seen enough, human?” Outside of the helmet, bereft of synthesizers and amplifiers, the voice was much softer but just as sibilant. “What is your designation, human?”

“Martin,” he replied. The invader did not seem threatening, almost friendly. Why not take a chance? “uh, what is your name?”

“I am Jerrel, the commander of this station. But we shall talk later, the indications are that you will be here for a long time.”

Martin’s heart sank. What did this mean? Surely he had not yet been tested, but the invaders seemed to want to keep him here. What did they want from him? Why would they keep him here? Perhaps his confusion and fear showed on his face, or in his demeanor, but Jerrel spoke again.

“Human, Martin, do not fear. You will be tested, but there is little doubt you will pass. You have been watched and we but waited till your body had matured sufficiently that you will be able to withstand the rigours of the training.”

Martin shuddered. If the words of Jerrel had been meant to comfort him, they had failed miserably. He would pass the testing? And they had waited until he was old enough to survive the rigours of training? What was the testing, and what was the training he would need to survive?

His thoughts, and apprehensions, were soon interrupted as the wall in front of them rolled down and Jerrel moved forward, moving forward down a wide passage.

“Follow human Martin, I came to fetch you myself and will be the one to administer the test.”

Martin followed, his fear growing as the end of the well lit, but murky, passage approached. Never before had a rectangle of light seemed so menacing. His apprehension was not diminished when he entered the doorway- a small desk sat there, two chairs opposite each other, by one an elaborate headset, connected by wires to the desk. Jerrel moved forward and sat down, adjusting the headset as he did so.

“Sit, human Martin, it is time to see if the last twenty three years of our searching on your planet has been rewarded.”

 
Year 33 post invasion
“Who is this newcomer?” Sean turned to look at his boss, the ostensible person that represented humanity to their overlords. In reality, both men knew that he held no power and remained byt a symbol of humanities defeat.
“Our masters have not bothered to tell me. We have been instructed to await his arrival, and to make him welcome and comfortable.” Neil Marko did not turn; his gaze remained focused on the concrete field outside. At the moment it lay empty, shortly, they were told, a ship would arrive, and on it would be the new lord and master of the entire planet, commanding the Gerrili and human alike. “All I know is that the Gerrili seem to be in awe of this one. They call him a Magister, it seems that he will rule not just us, but will hold sway over much of this sector of space.”
“Would I be remiss in saying it seems strange, to turn a newly conquered planet into a base for someone they evidently hold in esteem and power?”
“No, Sean, you would not be remiss. Indeed, it is a question that is being asked by many.” Neil stared out, noticing, finally, the descending glow of the ship bearing their new overlord. In a past life he had studied physics, now he just watched and no longer wondered at how they did it. He just accepted that the ship came down, slowly and without heating, as if gravity did not exist except according to its will. He watched the ship land, and as he had been present before, he could even recognise it as a luxurious diplomatic craft. He was watching as the first strange note was struck- those who emerged from the aircraft wore grey armour, not black. Their helmets, also, seemed different. Two ranks of ten stood at attention, falling in behind a small figure clad only in suit of black skin tight material- obviously human. He marched towards the building, smiling as he men waiting for him.
Neil stepped forward to greet him, hating him as an obvious collaborator, but smiling, extending his hand. So he was shocked when the man stepped forward, grasped him in a tight hug and yelled out: “It is good to be home!”

Marting looked around the luxurious apartment he had been appointed. Sitting on the sofa, sipping at an aged whiskey, one of the few remnants rescued from the pre-invasion days, was the administrator of Earth.
“They have explained nothing to you?” Martin was amused. Ten years off world had taught him that the Gerrili seldom considered the fact that others did not the knowledge they needed to understand what was happening. “So, let me explain what I understand, what I have learnt in the ten years since I was taken.”
“To start, the Gerrili are at war. Not just them, but the thousands of sentients that make up their empire. The estimated population is at well over three trillion sentients representing some five hundred known races. They seek to bring newcomers in, generally without bloodshed. With us, there was a massive miscalculation.”
Martin sat down, a simple cola in his hand. Before he had left, he had been too poor to even consider expending his meagre ration on alcohol and while off world the food had been nutritious, plentiful and frequently tasty- but alcohol had never been present.
“The miscalculation was one of capability. As a race, we remained unawakened. We had no one attuned to fight their advance attacks, we had no Guides to blend and guide, we had no Magister to enhance, amplify and direct. We should have been easy picking; the awakened should have over-powered us, subdued us, and brought us into the empire. At most a mere handful should have died. But we were stronger, more mentally resilient than expected, and we fought back, shrugging of the implanted thoughts and suggestions, asserting ourselves, and even setting off attacks. So we fought, so we died. Six billion dead, a mere one billion left alive all for the lives of a relative handful of them. And they used this comparison of numbers to keep us in line. They made us learn it, our children memorise it: six billion dead humans for but ninety seven of them!”
“Stop.” Sean turned to Martin. “You need to explain. What, or who, are the awakened? What or who is a Guide, a Magister?”
“They have not even spoken this much to you?” Martin was shocked. He knew that ten years ago it had not been known, at least to the common masses. But en route here he had assumed that at least those that ruled would know!
“There is no easy way to explain. Thousands of years ago the Gerrili found a way to gather energy via mini wormholes between one reality and the next. Tiny energy differentials between realities created a means of massive energy flows for only a small initial expenditure to establish the wormhole, and only a small expenditure of energy was required to sustain it. A prosperous future seemed assured; free, limitless energy to be had safely.”
“Yet there seemed a strange side effect. Some people began to experience headaches and visions, No one knew why, few of these had been in direct contact with the wormholes, yet it seemed that for these people proximity to the wormholes increased their symptoms- headaches, dizziness and hallucinations were common, but other symptoms soon began to emerge. Some began manifesting physical changes, others mental changes. The scientists and doctors struggled to come to terms with this new disease, and then one, called the Siri Geril found the key- each of these people had a key genetic marker that indicated a sensitivity, not to any known radiation, but to the specific radiation frequency and wave form that emanated from the worm holes. Further research showed that with training these individuals could manipulate the energy to a small degree and thus they became known as the ‘awakened’, those whose brains had been sensitised and thus ‘awakened by a fluke chance of fate.”
“The awakened altered society. With a limitless energy source at their disposal merely a thought away, their power seemed limited only by their imagination. Until they all started dying. Terrified and frantic an entire society searched for a solution. They found it, but the result was that the only way the awakened could survive was to destroy them. But society had become reliant on them. The powers of the awakened drove star ships for only they could see the paths of wormholes as they opened. They were the soldiers and politicians, the doctors who worked miracles, the engineers who fashioned materials impossible to make except through the subtle alterations at the molecular level only they could do. In short, the entire race seemed doomed to die.
Again, it was a member of the Gerel family that found the key. This time the focus drug, a limiter given to each of the awakened which blocked of the wide and chaotic nature of their abilities, leaving but a small conduit open that manifested itself differently in each of the awakened, far more limited in their powers, but enough in each discipline that the societal shift they had engendered did not completely reverse, but remained. The star ships still flew, the miracles of the medicine and engineering still occurred but the price was high and the awakened few.”

Martin paused to get himself a glass of water. “Excuse me, my throat is getting dry.” He turned and walked to a window, looking out from his new penthouse over a the rubble of a once great city. “What city was this?”

Neil answered him. “It was called Johannesburg. This continent, Africa, suffered the least from the invaders. The Northern continents were the focus of our industrial and military might, and little remains of those nations. How old are you? You look young, but we know little of what happens to those taken off world.”

“I am young. I was born after the invasion and know little of our own history prior to the invasion. It was not encouraged for us to ask questions about history and our parents would not speak of the war or the days before it. Even the old names were never used, just as this city is no longer Johannesburg, but is now called Port. It seems the Gerrili are not particularly inventive when it comes to names- here is the place where the ships land, and here is named Port. The Gerrili took me off world ten years ago. Named me at one of the testing stations, the places they set-up to find humans who could be awakened.”

“So, what is the difference between the Guides and Magisters compared to the other awakened? Or are you something completely different?” Sean looked inquiringly at Martin, waiting for his answer.

“Back to serious maters then,” Martin put his glass down and sat back down, pushing back into the soft chair. “Do you remember me saying that the Guides blend and guide? That the Magisters enhance, amplify and direct? The awakened can each tap the energy and manipulate it. The reason their weapons don’t work for humans when captured is simple- the invaders here are awakened, the rods tools to help focus their energy from doing the work of a taser to the equivalent of a low yield nuclear device. Without being awakened, the rod will not work for you; a perfect solution when attacking a planet where the populace is not enhanced and you don’t want to hand weaponry over to them that could be turned against you if captured.”

“The role of the Guides is like the role of the rod. They gather the energy of a group of awakened, blend it into a whole greater than the parts, and guide it into whatever channel is necessary. Think of it like braiding rope- each individual strand is weak- braided together they are far stronger. The Magister takes things a step further- they can not only do what the Guide does, but they can meld it directly with the energy of the wormholes, thus amplifying it far beyond what has been fed into him. But the Magister can take things even further- a Magister has the capability to fundamentally alter the energy, direct it into an entirely new channel, where a guide has to have at least part of the energy being directed in the form required. A Magister is also capable of far subtler users of the energy- direct energy manipulation at the sub-atomic level. Quite literally, with sufficient energy input, a Magister can change lead into gold.’

Martin looked at the two astonished men. “Not that something as frivolous as that is done. The energy inputs are massive for relatively little gain. Perhaps a desperate Magister would change a few ounces, but they would pay the price in being bed ridden and energy deprived for weeks thereafter.”

Standing up he started pacing. “This is where the invasion went horribly wrong. It was assumed that with no awakened, with no access to the powers of the Guides or Magisters we would be helpless. They assumed they would overwhelm our minds, subdue us, and we would fall in line like hundreds of species before us. And once part of the greater whole, we would welcome the inclusion once we had our own awakened, Guides and Magisters. Instead, when they attacked, on seeing how ineffective our weapons are, we retaliated with automated strikes, and finally a megaton size nuclear bomb. Ninety seven died in the invasion, amongst them 12 Guides and a Magister. The loss of these was immense. Perhaps one in twenty million has enough awareness to be one of the awakened. From this awakened, only one in twenty has the capabilities to do the job of the Guides. As for Magisters, they are so rare that statistically they are an anomaly and do not exist. The ability to funnel the raw energy of a wormhole should destroy any mind. There are thirty known across the entire empire. Thirty seven individuals from a population of close to three trillion, a figure so close to zero as to merit being non-existent; the loss of a Magister in the attack against us is what ignited the massive retaliation , and the killing of six billion humans .”

“Well, now we know why. I have heard discussions and speculations as to why before the strike loss of human life was low, even while our hardware was being reduced to rubble, and after the strike their weapons turned on the cities. Some thought it was anger at the usage of nuclear weapons. Now it seems they killed six billion of us over the anger at the death of one leader!” Neil’s anger was evident. Martin could feel it, could see it in his mind. He could understand it, unlike him, Neil had been alive before the invasion and had most likely lost nearly everyone he loved.

“Yes, they struck back out of anger and mad ensure we could not repeat any such strike. When i was discovered, and they suspected I was a Magister, they took me off world. They feared that if I came to my powers here I would be rash and try to destroy them.”

“And will you?” Sean’s voice was soft, but intent. Neil turned to look at him, then switched his focus to the young Magister. “Will you now defeat the killers of six billion humans? Or are you there faithful servant, and here to do their bidding?” Sean stared at Martin, gauging him.

In reply Martin smiled. “Treason. Worthy words on home coming! You know I could destroy you right now?” In demonstration the chair Sean sat on burst into flame, the flames quickly leaving a pile of ash, yet Sean remained unharmed. He had not even felt the heat. “But no, I have no intention of denouncing you, just as I have no intention of being a faithful servant to the Gerrili. They spent much time trying to turn me, to change me into one of them and a loyal citizen of the Empire. When they could not succeed they did the next best thing, turned over the human awakened they had with them and sent them home with me. Every one of the guards is human, everyone is awakened.”

“What next?” Neil came up behind the young man, lacing his hand on his shoulder. “If you do not obey the Gerrili, who do you obey? What do you do next?”

Martin heard the fear in Neil’s voice. His power, the demonstration he had given, had convinced the older man that he spoke the truth. No doubt if he turned he would see the same fear, perhaps hatred, in the face of Sean.

“Next? I don’t know. There is much to fix, much to repair, and I can do much good. We, all the awakened, can do much good. The Gerrili must go, we must have our own world back. But after that? The Gerrili war, they always war. It is why they assimilate so many species and worlds into their empire. But I do not know against whom they war. They do not trust me. I am a Magister, but one beyond their control. The war is one fought in the mind, by the Magisters and a select few of the more powerful Guides, but I was not included.”

“Neil, I can snuff out a sun by blocking the fission at its heart, destroy entire solar systems, or create a supernova by overexciting the molecular interactions and destroy many worlds and solar systems. But I fear, any of the Magisters can do the same, yet they fight, they war, they build huge mind driven conglomerates guiding enough power to destroy anything I could imagine- yet they lose. Magisters die at the hands of an enemy, and I do not know how. Neil, what enemy do they face? And is the enemy of the Gerrili our enemy as well?