NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18: Twenty-One Seconds
Chapter 18: Twenty-one Seconds
The docking bay of Aethel was a beautiful scene of organized chaos. Drones zipped through the air like metallic bees, repairing scorch marks on the shimmering platform with pinpoint laser beams. Robotic peacekeepers, chrome sentinels with an almost unsettling politeness, calmly directed panicking civilians towards designated shelters, even as energy blasts whizzed overhead. The whole scene was bathed in the ethereal glow of the bioluminescent flora that formed Aethel's towering structures, a surreal contrast of nature and technology, peace and war. Shuri watched it all, arms crossed, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.
"They're awfully civil about this whole 'being invaded' thing," she muttered to herself, a dry smirk escaping her lips.
"Seven, is there any way I can help?"
"Yes," Seven replied after a brief calculation. "The attackers appear to be utilizing a disruptive energy field that is interfering with our shield generators. If you can identify the frequency of this field, I may be able to devise a countermeasure."
This has changed from a sightseeing tour of a utopia to saving it under siege. She was here because her world was gone, because she'd found a strange man who took her on a trip through spacetime – "a breath of fresh air," he'd called it – and now he was off on some mysterious errand while everything went sideways.
The familiar, bitter feeling of powerlessness rose in her heart. Crumbling walls, desperate fights, blinding flashes… memories she'd tried so hard to bury clawed their way to the surface. But this time she wouldn't be a spectator.
She scanned the docking bay, searching for anything she could use. A damaged control panel, sparks spitting from exposed wires, caught her attention. The main interface, miraculously, was still functional. An idea sparked in her mind, a risky maneuver.
Ignoring the panicked shouts of an approaching Aethelian engineer, she rushed to the panel, her fingers already flying across the interface.
"Hey! That's a restricted area!" the engineer yelled, his voice laced with panic.
"So is the entire city right now," Shuri retorted, her focus laser-sharp as she navigated the complex code flashing across the screen.
She began rerouting power from the docking bay's auxiliary systems to the main shield generators, gambling that a temporary instability was better than complete annihilation.
"You're…rerouting power to the shields?" the engineer stammered, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. "But that will destabilize the platform's energy grid!"
"It's a risk, one I am willing to take," Shuri replied, her fingers moving with practiced speed. She also realised that what she said sounded suspiciously similar to him. "Besides, without me, those shields are going down as fast as a paper umbrella in a hurricane."
The platform shuddered violently as the energy surged, lights flickering and alarms blaring. But the shields shimmered into full strength, just in time to deflect a barrage of energy blasts that would have otherwise vaporized the docking bay. A ragged cheer rose from the civilians huddled behind the now-reinforced barrier. Shuri allowed herself a small, grim smile. At least she wasn't completely useless.
Miles away, within the sterile, soundproofed walls of Aethel BioSolutions, Devon sat across from Director Lyra. The atmosphere was one of quiet, scholarly discussion. The distant sounds of the attack were muffled to a dull hum, barely audible within the heavily fortified building.
"So," Devon began, swirling the clear liquid in his glass, "you're telling me that you can essentially…replicate a human body from scratch?"
Lyra nodded, her silver hair catching the light. "With the proper genetic template and sufficient resources, yes. We can even accelerate the growth process significantly."
"And you can even guarantee its…integrity?" Devon asked, his voice low and serious. "That it wouldn't have any complications?"
Lyra's expression remained professional, almost clinical. "We can guarantee the structural integrity of the physical form, Lord King. However, the restoration of consciousness…that is a different matter. It is the only thing stopping us from achieving true resurrection."
Devon's gaze hardened. The 51st century truly had achieved what most would never dream of.
Back at the docking bay, things were going from bad to worse. The enemy ships had adapted, targeting the platform's support structures. Explosions rocked the platform, sending chunks of debris raining down. Shuri, working frantically at the control panel, cursed under her breath.
"Where in the spacetime is he?" she muttered, her eyes darting across the chaotic scene. "Is he not helping because of some timeline mumbo jumbo…?"
At that exact moment, a squad of heavily armed soldiers, their armor bearing unfamiliar markings, breached the pristine lobby of Aethel BioSolutions. They moved with ruthless efficiency, weapons trained on Devon and Lyra.
"Miss Lyra," one of them snarled, his voice distorted by a vocoder, "you're coming with us."
Devon merely raised an eyebrow, his expression almost bored. "And if we refuse?"
"Then we'll make a very public example," the soldier replied, gesturing to a camera drone that whirred to life, its red light blinking ominously.
Shuri, now monitoring the city's emergency broadcasts from a secure command center within the docking bay, saw the live feed appear on a nearby screen. Devon, surrounded by soldiers, looked utterly unfazed. Lyra, beside him, was pale but composed. The attackers were setting up a broadcast: "People of Aethel, surrender peacefully, for we hold one of your esteemed council members hostage."
Seriously? Shuri thought, a mix of terror and incredulous amusement warring within her. You're pointing guns at the guy who can erase entire timelines? Why not try to mug a god while you're at it?
While the soldiers were getting ready to dock their spaceships and extract themselves, Devon, a hint of a playful smile touching his lips, addressed the soldiers. "You know, I've grown rather tired of this charade. I give you twenty-one seconds to reconsider your life choices. You're interrupting a very important conversation."
"You are not needed," the lead soldier sneered. "We only require Lady Lyra. As a key member of the Aethel council, she is far more valuable than you."
Ouch. I'm…unimportant? That hurts.
Devon used [Stasis], freezing the world around him. He deactivated the camera drone with a flick of his wrist, then systematically disarmed each soldier, their weapons clattering to the floor in the sudden silence.
Devon didn't move. He didn't speak. He simply was. And that was enough. An invisible pressure seemed to emanate from him, a weight that settled on the soldiers' shoulders, a chill that crept into their bones. It wasn't a physical force, but something far more insidious, a sense of being observed by something ancient, something vast, something utterly indifferent to their puny weapons. It was the feeling of standing before a predator so far beyond their comprehension that resistance was not just futile, it was… laughable. The fear, raw and primal, clawed its way up their spines, a terror that resonated with the deepest instincts of self-preservation.
Their minds, unprepared for such an overwhelming assault, simply surrendered. They crumpled under the sheer, paralyzing weight of Devon's presence.
Devon then turned his attention to the enemy spaceships visible through the lobby windows. With a subtle gesture, he unleashed a concentrated temporal blast. The ships, sleek and menacing moments before, began to visibly age. Rust bloomed across their metallic surfaces, spreading like a disease.
Within seconds, they were crumbling into dust, collapsing into heaps of corroded metal and debris. The effect was swift, decisive, and utterly silent within the soundproofed building.
Devon turned back to Lyra, dusting off his coat. "Still think so?" he asked, a dry amusement in his voice. "I wasn't told that you were a person of such importance, Director Lyra."
Lyra, a flicker of amusement and genuine awe in her eyes at the sheer speed and efficiency of his display, replied, "The identity of council members is a strictly confidential matter, Lord King. How they obtained this information is…most concerning. But I must thank you for intervening. Who knows how this might have turned out? And rest assured," she added, her tone regaining its professional composure, "your project will be completed. I will supervise it personally."
"Thank you, Director Lyra," Devon said, a genuine note of appreciation in his voice. Clearly, talking to smart people is so much easier. He then retrieved a small device from his pocket and tapped a few buttons.
As Devon finished speaking with Lyra, Seven, who was present in the docking bay with Shuri, suddenly spoke. "Shuri," Seven announced, its voice clear and distinct, "Lord King has established a communication link. He wishes to speak with you."
A beat of silence, then Devon's voice called in, his tone laced with his usual dry sarcasm. "I'll be there shortly. I had a slight interruption."
"A slight interruption?" Shuri retorted, "How the hell did you become a hostage!"
"Details," Devon replied dismissively. "Besides, they interrupted a rather important conversation. Director Lyra was just explaining the finer points of cellular regeneration."
"Devon," Shuri said, a note of exasperation in her voice, "Can you please hurry up."
Back at BioSolutions, Devon turned to Lyra, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Now, where were we?"
Another explosion rocked the platform. A group of civilians were trapped near a collapsing section, the energy shields flickering dangerously. Shuri knew she had to act, consequences be damned. Grabbing a nearby Aethelian energy cannon, she quickly deciphered its controls and fired, creating a precarious energy bridge that allowed the civilians to scramble to safety. It was a blatant intervention, a significant shift in the course of the battle at the docking bay, but she couldn't stand by and watch them die.
With the fighting over and the remaining enemies being dealt with by the peacekeepers, Shuri helped the Aethelians with emergency treatment. It was a way to keep her mind occupied until Devon arrived—she knew she was in for a lecture about causing trouble.
At the docking bay, after some time, Devon materialized.
"Director Lyra is a truly era-defining biomechanical genius," Devon explained. "You should meet some of these brilliant minds yourself. Anyone in particular you'd like to meet?"
"Aren't you angry or disappointed that I didn't keep to myself?" Shuri asked, genuine concern etched on her features. "I may have created a huge temporal footprint helping the Aethelians. Isn't the timeline in danger?"
Devon smiled, a genuine, almost warm expression that was rare for him. "Ah, your concern arises from a fundamental misunderstanding of time. And yes," he conceded, the smile fading into a smirk, "you did, in fact, leave a rather…significant temporal footprint. But you seem to misunderstand my role. I'm not some meticulous guardian of the timeline, obsessed with every tiny deviation. I mostly don't care about the changes, as long as the timeline itself remains…intact."
He looked around the docking bay, the activity slowly returning to normal. "And I am certainly not disappointed. Given your character, I certainly expected it from you. I simply didn't realise this particular conflict to be a nexus event."
"A nexus event?" Shuri frowned.
Devon used a flicker of his temporal energy to draw a simple diagram in the air, a glowing line that hung momentarily before dissipating.
"This," he said, tracing the line, "is the normal flow of events." He then touched a point on the line, causing it to expand into a small circle. "This is a nexus point. An event that must happen, like the Avengers facing the Chitauri invasion in 2012. But the outcome is never set." He then drew multiple branches sprouting from the circle, resembling a tree.
"Until we confirm it, the most probable outcome of this attack was the fall of Aethel. It didn't fall because I stopped it from happening. There are…semantics involved, but the attack itself wasn't the nexus, the fall was. Time is…complicated."
He turned back to Shuri, his expression softening slightly. "But I commend you, Shuri. It's the 51st century. Most people from the 21st wouldn't know which end of a sonic screwdriver to hold, yet you quickly adapted to the situation. Your ingenuity and adaptability have impressed me." Especially because heroes tend to have brain damage. I'm going to have to stop saying that out loud.
"You can interfere in a nexus event," Devon continued, his tone becoming more serious, "but should you stop it from happening entirely, the timeline feedback would…disintegrate you directly. For me? It's Tuesday. I'm a singularity, meaning what I do is…supposed to happen. It's a perk from the multiverse, for the…burden I bear."
"Normally, my actions would be absorbed without consequence. But your perfectly timed interference means the timeline change will be attributed to you. Even my actions will appear to be yours, since they can't detect me. This will create a detectable temporal flare, leading to some people who have a stick up their butt, coming here to 'reset' the timeline – and by 'reset,' I mean erase."
"So…what do we do now?" Shuri asked, a knot of dread forming in her stomach.
Devon shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that belied the gravity of the situation. "We wait. For the…annoying guys to present themselves."
As if on cue, shimmering orange portals began to materialize around the docking bay, crackling with temporal energy. Figures in imposing, dark uniforms stepped through, their faces impassive, their eyes cold and calculating. They carried strange, futuristic weapons that hummed with power.
"Well," Devon said, a dry amusement returning to his voice, "speak of the devils. Looks like the…time cops have arrived."
One of the figures, a tall woman with sharp features and a stern expression, stepped forward. She held up a device that resembled a holographic projector, which displayed an image of Shuri superimposed over a branching timeline, a red line highlighting a significant divergence.
"Shuri Udaku," she announced, her voice crisp and authoritative. "You are in violation of the Sacred Timeline. You are hereby under arrest by the Time Variance Authority."
Shuri glanced at Devon, a mixture of apprehension and exasperation in her eyes. "Well," she muttered, "that's just great."
Devon, however, simply leaned against a nearby pillar, a look of almost bored amusement on his face. "Oh, this is going to be…interesting."
The TVA agents moved to apprehend Shuri, but Devon simply raised a hand, a subtle ripple of temporal energy emanating from him. The agents froze mid-stride, their weapons clattering to the ground.
"Now, now, let's not be hasty," Devon said, his voice smooth as silk. "I believe we have some things to discuss."
He turned to Shuri, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ready for some interdimensional bureaucracy, Shuri? It's even more tedious than it sounds."
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(Just Before the start of the attack on Director Lyra)
Bad Intel and Second Thoughts: From a different Perspective
The squad leader adjusted his vocoder. "Alright, men, remember the briefing. We're going in to secure Council Member Lyra. Intel says the other one, this Lord King, is just some academic. ' Temporal historian'. Probably spends his days dusting old timelines. Don't worry about him. Lyra's the priority."
The squad nodded, weapons raised. They breached the lobby of Aethel BioSolutions. There stood Lyra…and a man who looked, well, like a slightly bored academic. He was swirling some liquid in a glass, looking like he was about to give a lecture.
"Miss Lyra," the squad leader snarled, "you're coming with us."
The man – Lord King – merely raised an eyebrow. "And if we refuse?"
The squad leader gestured to the camera drone. "Then we'll make a very public example."
From her vantage point, Lyra watched, a flicker of unease in her eyes. The intel about Lord King had been…vague. A "temporal historian." It sounded harmless. But something about his quiet confidence, the almost dismissive way he regarded their weapons, set her on edge. She'd dealt with powerful people before, but this was…different.
The man – Lord King – gave a small smile. "You know," he said, his voice smooth, "I've grown rather tired of this charade. I give you twenty-one seconds to reconsider your life choices. You're interrupting a very important conversation."
The squad leader sneered. "You are not needed. We only require Lady Lyra. She is far more valuable than you."
Lyra's unease intensified. This wasn't going as planned. The "harmless academic" radiated an aura of…something. It wasn't power, exactly. It was more like…inevitability.
Twenty-one seconds? Lyra thought, a chill running down her spine. What could he possibly do in twenty-one seconds?
Then, time seemed to…skip. One moment, the soldiers were aiming their weapons, the next, they were on the floor, unconscious. The camera drone was deactivated. It was as if a blink had occurred, a tiny gap in reality.
Lyra blinked again, trying to understand what she had just witnessed. She saw Devon dusting off his coat, as if he had just finished a casual stroll.
What…just happened? she thought, her mind reeling. The "temporal historian" had moved with impossible speed, with an almost supernatural grace. He had disarmed an entire squad of heavily armed soldiers in the blink of an eye. She felt a wave of dizziness, as if her perception of time itself had been…altered.
She looked at Devon, a new respect, bordering on fear, in her eyes. She had clearly, drastically, underestimated him. And she had a feeling that underestimating him was a very, very dangerous thing to do.
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