Visions of the Past

Sainne felt his eyes turn red.

His veins seemed to throb, but he knew this was merely an illusion. It was his nerves that were buzzing with the sporadic impulses struggling to make themselves coherent. The signals surged from his fingertips up to the base of his skull before flooding his brain with vaporous, acidic glimpses into a past that never was.

Tonight, the chaos was even greater than it had been in previous visions. Sainne’s fingertips tingled as they rested on the small silvery sphere. Sitting on a spindly base wrapped in wires and pipes, it transmitted the images from another meta-timeline. Images of catastrophe and defeat which could not be undone.

Sainne grimaced. There was the Ashen Phoenix himself – his half-forgotten, half-mythical master. The creature he and the other Anaraks could never ignore, even as his absence became ever more alluring. Their unwanted, absent sovereign’s shadow always loomed over their private kingdoms, their private planets. But now that Sainne saw the record of his demise, he could hardly relish the foretold occasion.

The Ashen Phoenix had died. Anarakia dissolved in an instant. The soldiers fell upon each other, turning to mad butchers. His fellow Anaraks became prize captives. But not he. No, Sainne alone still had a mission in that bygone timeline.

Sainne took minute pleasure in his unique role amongst the Anaraks. He alone among them was what was called a “white rabbit.” A being capable of traveling along the meta-timeline. As such, it fell to him to constantly stoke the fires of the Eternal War. To ensure that it would never go out, except on the occasion of an Anarakian victory, of course. In such a case, Time Peace would take it upon themselves to maintain the fires, and Sainne would preserve the record of Anarakia’s last nigh-successful strategy.

“Your report, Anarak Sainne,” the Supreme Commander requested, with just a hint of gruffness in his pristine military voice.

“Commander, you need not stand on formality on my behalf,” Sainne drawled as he exited the room with the orb. He had received the vision of defeat only a minute ago. “Besides, I would prefer the title Director.”

“Your report,” the other insisted.

Sainne smiled slightly and bowed his head deferentially. The Supreme Commander was already brooding behind the isolation glass. The usual technicians were absent, though their monitors gave off just the slightest light, giving shape to Sainne’s superior. Sainne, on the other hand, was illuminated by the sterile fluorescent bulbs as he removed his gloves. The entire chamber was quite unnecessary for the procedure, but that was itself its purpose. The leader of Anarakia had such facilities installed adjacent to Sainne’s “meditation chamber” to remind him of just who was facilitating the creation and maintenance of such a specialized apparatus.

“I’m afraid to say that the most recent play from our enemies was as effective as it was unpredictable,” Sainne replied.

“Facts, Anarak Sainne,” the commander pressed. Not a drop of humor was present in the man.

“After securing a near total victory over Time Peace, the Ashen Phoenix was killed by a freak occurrence – a lucky shot from one of the remnant timeless of our opposition,” Sainne said flatly.

“I find that difficult to believe,” the Supreme Commander scowled. “Especially given the particular resources the Phoenix is likely to have at his disposal.”

Sainne finished removing his gloves and cocked his head at his superior. “I should hope you are not suggesting my report to be falsified,” he nearly purred.

“I can have it verified,” the commander reminded him.

“Commander, much as I enjoy my various games, I value our understanding on this matter far more,” Sainne said seriously. “If you bring in Anarak Presciess, well, his access to you would grant him a dramatic advantage that neither of us could afford. I am well aware of this and want to avoid that possibility at all costs. And so, I report even the most fantastical of facts.”

“More to the point,” he added, “the death of the Ashen Phoenix grants me nothing. I have seen the disarray that comes in the wake of his departure. It… is inhospitable.”

The Supreme Commander kept his arms folded and seemed to examine Sainne for a long time. At last, he prompted, “Continue.”

He depended on Sainne. Even the Supreme Commander was blind without his ability to see the last iteration of the war. So when a rabbit hole from the enemy was detected, the bells would clatter and the blast doors would slam shut. As they had on this occasion.

The control rooms were completely isolated, sealed from the rest of the complex. Shutters fell over windows and other entryways. Intercoms immediately started buzzing as the Anarakian personnel tried to figure out what was happening, or figure out how to save their work that was just forcefully disrupted.

The comm continued to buzz next to Director Sainne. He languidly picked it off of the hook. He savored the panic running through the base, all desperate for information only he could provide. It soothed his annoyance at the interruption. He didn’t need to hear the request. He already knew what it would be, though he went through the motions all the same.

So he entered through the isolation hall into his personal chamber. There, on the spindly pedestal, was the device. He called it the Talhesian torture device, but it was so much more than that. But his victims didn’t need a descriptively accurate name for it. The chosen nomenclature was far better suited for most purposes.

Sainne approached and grabbed the device. And then he felt the changes come. He knew that he would appear even gaunter as his eyes changed color. That effect had never been adequately explained, but so little of timeless biology had. Add to that his status as both Anarak and white rabbit, combined with the effects of his rather specialized device, and it was no surprise that certain unexpected features would emerge on him. When he was retrieving the necessary information, Sainne found the twinging change uncomfortable. When he was dealing with his subjects, he found it to be an intriguing tool.

He found that when he was particularly focused, he could provoke the change deliberately. Doing so always produced a response in the target. But now, as the information from the last meta-timeline surged into his mind, the change was anything but voluntary. He had to grasp the silver device firmly, or else a stray spasm would send him collapsing to the floor, disrupting the pseudo-memory.

And this one was more difficult than most.

“The critical information was not from the last meta-timeline, but the meta-timeline before that,” he explained.

“T-37,” the Supreme Commander clarified.

“Correct,” Sainne agreed. “This was a double event. After I created a rabbit hole on T-37, one of Time Peace’s white rabbits created another wormhole on T-38. And so I am left with discrepancies and fragmentation in the device.”

“Why?” the Commander questioned, his voice lowering slightly with veiled suspicion. “Your T-37 counterpart still arrived on T-38. You should still be capable of processing his memories.”

Sainne grimaced. “Yes, that is why we have any information to work from at all,” he explained delicately. “However, there were two versions of myself in the T-38 timeline – my counterpart from T-37 who went through the rabbit hole, and the one native to T-38 itself. Since the array is designed to harvest information specifically from my last iteration on the last meta-timeline, it is conflicted on the information to pull. It seems we have an unforeseen error.”

“An error? In such a critical piece of machinery?”

“Yes,” Sainne spat, finally losing patience. “This was built for a purpose and is hardly tried and tested beyond that purpose. Every temporal engineer involved in the creation of this array hedges their estimations when discussing even the structural integrity of the ceiling. Only the Ashen Phoenix himself has a prayer of understanding most of this arcane tech. But if you would like to invite a team to attempt to recover more data, I welcome the attempt.”

The commander stared at Sainne for several seconds before replying, “Perhaps. Perhaps I will have someone look into it during your meeting with Anarak Khina.”

“Khina?” Sainne asked, quickly rifling through the possibilities.

“Yes. She has requested a meeting with you. To discuss our operations on the Aechrian timeline. I agree this coordination is necessary.”

Sainne examined him carefully, but didn’t reveal his true emotions.

Only in his private chamber did he allow the outside world to penetrate his mask. The electricity driving through his brain made that inevitable. As he saw into the previous worlds that none of the others could. As he had done numerous times before, collecting many hidden secrets, or facets of secrets that no one else would ever know.

But it didn’t matter. Seeing time wasn’t power. If anything, it demonstrated how truly insignificant a single being was. Sainne’s secret was that he didn’t fight such a revelation – he embraced it. Even when other Anaraks embraced their artificial immortality and gained a new perspective, their experience could hardly compare to the cold clarity that Sainne had achieved. It was more than clarity. It was a potent apathy. In the face of challenge and defiance, Sainne could smile easily because it did not matter.

And his acceptance of that crude fact gave him an advantage which could not be sought out. His surrender to fate was a power unto itself. For his creeping calm gave him the illusion of total confidence, which in turn unwittingly forced those he confronted into subtle servility. His power was that he was.

“Face it, Sainne,” Khina said after the pleasantries had cooled, “if you want to force a flashpoint in Aechyr, you will need my agents in the U.S.”

Sainne nodded noncommittally at Khina’s play. It was obvious and direct, of course, lacking any subterfuge whatsoever. That alone told Sainne that the powerful Anarak believed her position to be unassailable.

He evaluated her carefully satisfied expression. She was letting him see her sense of victory, he knew. Even as she struck, she carefully concealed the totality of her emotions, maintaining enough vigilance to adapt or retreat where necessary.

Khina was unusual amongst the Anaraks for both her gamesmanship and her appearance. Both arms were encased in delicate metal, sliding seamlessly where necessary to mimic the natural motions of flesh. How much flesh remained under the metallic skin was anyone’s guess. Similarly, Khina’s jaw was artificial, as was her tongue. It was both metaphorically and literally silver.

Actually, her lips were amber colored to match the honey-like liquid which kept the cybernetics in her mouth from infecting or disrupting her body. So the silver tongue sometimes had a golden sheen. Silver and honey. She wore the amber color well against her deep ochre skin and dark eyes. Eyes that were probing Sainne for a reaction.

But all they would meet was the polite, expected gesture he provided. Even as he processed the possibilities, a certain permanent apathy quelled his reaction. He reminded himself to smile in faux amusement, in case the irritating habit would provoke a reaction.

“I admit my mastery of politics may not always be at your level,” he said in an almost soothing tone, “but I think that missile testing could hardly fail to provoke the necessary reaction.”

Khina gave him a smile in return, hers more knowing, and with a hint of contempt in her eyes. As calculated as his expression had been. Neither of their minor tricks would disrupt the other, but they would not do themselves the dishonor of neglecting them. Practice, after all, was essential for both of their arts.

“Come now, Director,” Khina chided mildly, “you’ve done your homework. You know as well as I that provoking a flashpoint on Aechyr is no easy feat.”

“If you are going to make it so difficult,” Sainne said lazily, “then perhaps we can come to some arrangement. A courtesy fee if you like. You of course will keep your agents on the principle timeline after the split, but I will allow you to add agents to the secondary timeline as well. A reduced force, of course—”

“Sainne,” Khina interjected with the bare minimum of force, “I want Aechyr.”

“Well, just as you have done the legwork to install agents in the U.S., I have done so for Aechyr. You can’t expect me to simply hand it over after all of that.”

“The Supreme Commander does,” Khina replied, smiling.

Sainne paused momentarily, and Khina added into the lull, “We know what Aechyr is Sainne. Why it’s so resistant to splits. And why you really want it so badly. It’s a time gate complex.”

Sainne slowly straightened himself and leaned in a little closer over Khina’s desk. He molded his expression into something dark and wary, pulling himself up into a nearly threatening posture. But one of disturbed surprise rather than revealed honesty. “Then our glorious leader will, no doubt, be taking it for the greater good of Anarakia, Khina. I hadn’t expected you to do his dirty work.”

“Don’t be silly, Sainne,” she smiled triumphantly. “You want Aechyr, I want Aechyr, but fortunately, there’s enough for us both to have it all. Together, we split the timeline, and I secure one Aechyr, and you secure the other.”

“And then let the Supreme Commander whisper into each of our ears, pressuring us to concede control over it piece by piece lest the other become too powerful?” Sainne asked rhetorically, letting disgust taint the last words.

“That’s certainly his plan,” Khina confirmed. “Which is why he authorized my proposal.”

“You are doing his dirty work,” Sainne accused.

“Please, Sainne,” the other Anarak sighed dramatically. She appeared to drop the façade as she explained wearily, “With an entire time gate complex under our respective controls, there will be no need for such fears. Despite your best efforts to appear to the contrary, you are a reasonable man. You know that if we work together, our cooperation will eclipse the Supreme Commander himself.”

“Your ambition has no limit,” Sainne observed. “But if you have such a high opinion of me, then surely you wouldn’t be giving me this offer in earnest. After all, once the Supreme Commander is overshadowed, that would leave you with a rather deadly opponent.”

“A cowardly or foolish one would be an easy target to the commander,” Khina said easily. “That is the biggest hurdle for me. And there are few candidates I can trust to be competent enough to secure the prize I am handing them. The exception being General Zhao, and he is the person you were alluding to. The capable threat who would likely outmaneuver me in the end.”

“I am flattered,” Sainne said dryly.

“You can choose to be or you can choose to be removed,” Khina said abruptly. “I have convinced the Supreme Commander that it would be more efficient to allow you to remain in place, given your investment. But if you want to be difficult, that will change. I’ll make sure the commander appoints someone other than Zhao to take over your half of the bargain. Then, after the split, I’ll take my chances with the Supreme Commander controlling one of the new Aechrian timelines.”

“You would really sacrifice so much merely to spite me?” Sainne asked. “Such a waste Khina, I would think that beneath you.”

“Sainne, you will be the one choosing spite if you refuse the deal,” Khina answered plainly. “I will still have Aechyr. You won’t. But if you agree to my proposal, we both will have complete control of two major time gate facilities. Refuse, and I’ll have a timeline, albeit without full control of the complex. You’ll have neither. And as I said, you’re not so foolish as to throw away such a perfect opportunity.”

Sainne grimaced. “No, I suppose I’m not,” he said in a way that clearly communicated his displeasure.

“This is a partnership I’m proposing,” Khina reiterated. “A partnership that will be more profitable than either of us could achieve on our own. It only requires a little patience and foresight. Qualities which you pride yourself in cultivating.”

“Perhaps,” Sainne allowed for a moment. Then added, “Though I can’t help but notice that it was I who infiltrated Aechyr and realized it’s potential first. And despite this, I will no longer be its sole proprietor.”

Khina smiled. “It’s the risk we all take on.”

Sainne accepted her handshake, appearing to express distaste at this apparent defeat. But of course, Sainne was not one fond of risks. So he hadn’t taken one.

Sainne’s eyes intensified again as he ran through the vision one more time. In this place, his private sanctum, it was difficult sometimes to keep time straight. Images of his meetings with the Supreme Commander and Khina kept swimming up to meet him. But they didn’t matter. He had handled them perfectly. As long as he had interpreted the vision correctly.

So he focused once again. Focused not on the Ashen Phoenix or his fall, but on the much clearer image. The memory from meta-timeline 38. A bloody beach, littered with fallen Time Peace thetas as they tried to assault his enclave. But he wasn’t worried about the defense. He had to ignore the visions from his T-38 counterpart who was monitoring the progress of the attack carefully. He was looking for his other counterpart’s perspective. The Sainne from T-37 who was on the beach, hunting.

That Sainne stepped over the rubble and ruined bodies, ignoring the smoke and ash. He had found him. The irritating young soldier who had fallen into a fluke victory. Now he was lying helplessly in the sand, seeming to be little more than another of the dead on the beach. But Sainne knew better. As tempting as it may be to believe that he would expire here, the testimony of time purported something different. Sainne would ensure that the next iteration would not follow the pattern.

Sainne took out the trusty device, the same one his present counterpart was pressing his fingers into. The Sainne on the sand kneeled over the wounded Kennedy Frost, and thumbed the sphere into the proper mode. Permanent injury across all meta-timelines.

“No doubt she wants to make a move on my holdings in Aechyr,” Sainne said to the shrouded Supreme Commander.

“She can explain her terms,” the commander said, ignoring the bait.

“And you can explain yours,” Sainne countered. “This isn’t some incidental meeting. You have an arrangement with Khina regarding Aechyr. And you think you can trust that snake?”

“As much as any Anarak under my command,” the Supreme Commander replied pointedly.

Sainne paused at that, then allowed a slight self-deprecating smile. “Then perhaps we, too, could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement?”

The Supreme Commander didn’t respond.

“It seems to me that given what we’ve just discussed, control over Aechyr should be a relatively minor issue. Even if it’s a time gate complex,” Sainne hastily added. This seemed to forestall any scoffing from his superior.

“I am in a unique position,” Sainne continued. “I am the only one with firsthand knowledge of the man who kills the Ashen Phoenix.”

“That would seem a rather easy outcome to avoid,” the Supreme Commander observed.

“Perhaps not. Timelines have a way of righting themselves – of sticking to certain patterns,” Sainne reminded him, “We could easily find ourselves in a similar situation. After all, Time Peace is incentivized to play out the previous conflict as it was, and we cannot easily afford to alter our own plans for the sake of altering them. I’m sure you know as well as I that each Anarak crafts their strategies to be maximally effective. We cannot ask them to deliberately weaken their position on a chance that an immediate loss prevents a larger, speculative one.”

The Supreme Commander did not miss the other implication of Sainne’s words. That the cooperation of the other Anaraks was never guaranteed, even with a sound plan.

“Nevertheless,” the Anarakian leader huffed, “our sheer numbers make victory likely, even with a momentary sub-optimal strategy.”

“A victory yes, but a total victory?” Sainne asked.

The other paused momentarily. “The other iteration?”

“Was a complete success until one lucky shot,” Sainne finished the thought. And here, he took a turn to remain silent, letting the moment hang over his superior.

“You propose to remove the lucky soldier from the equation?” the Supreme Commander finally prompted.

“I would be able to dedicate my full resources to the task if I knew my holdings were secure,” Sainne replied, with aa slight sardonic smile.

The Supreme Commander scoffed. “I think not. Security of that sort too often promotes laxity.”

He leaned in slightly towards Sainne, the dim lighting of the monitors illuminating his bush moustache.

“I have agreed to Khina’s proposal in the event of a timeline split,” he continued more seriously. “Should you succeed in removing the boy from play, I will not force such a split. At least not for a time.”

“And my holdings will be my own,” Sainne prompted.

“I will still expect cooperation, Anarak Sainne,” the commander reminded him. “After all, we have a total victory to achieve. And Khina will remain more than capable of,” he searched for the right word, “assisting you in your timeline.”

“Very well. I will deal with the boy,” Sainne agreed.

The Supreme Commander nodded slowly and carefully watched the Talhesian director as he strode out of the decontamination room and towards his meeting with Khina. For his part, Sainne allowed his smile to break through, and for once, it was perfectly natural.

He smiled once more in the chamber as his eyes found the sights of his previous iteration’s. Kennedy Frost, previously a nameless grunt, was permanently blinded. Sainne replayed the memory over and over to be sure, but there was no mistake. The child who had managed to slay the Ashen Phoenix would never again have such a victory. No matter which meta-timeline they would be on, his identifying temporal signature would be marred with this artificial deformity. Blinded in all forevers.

In the privacy of his chamber, Sainne’s indifference broke, and he laughed. They had played it very well, the Commander and Khina. They had nearly stolen away the prize jewel of this war, but Aechyr would be his. For he had already fulfilled the demands of the Supreme Commander before they had even been asked, and in so doing had nullified Khina’s clever proposal. His attention would not be split, as the commander likely hoped, between dealing with Kennedy and building his kingdom.

No, Sainne could now set his sights fully on the little nation of Aechyr. Soon, it would be all his.