Saga - OT Ghosts of Ulug Beg (Islamic Architecture Roulette)

This is a response to @Chyntuck's beautiful Islamic Architecture Roulette Challenge




Warning: This story contains DRUGS. Far too many drugs.

So, onward....

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Ghosts of Ulugh Beg

1. The Desert

His eopie collapsed and died in the sand two days ago, poor thing, and his torture droid wouldn’t let him forget it.

“I told you sir that an eopie was not suitable but you wanted to save a few credits”, muttered ST-4B over the comms. “And look where we are now.”

Tyler Horne pushed through the sandstorm, his eyes obscured by thick sand encrusted goggles, his body wrapped in a heavy leather coat and his face wrapped in scarves. As he walked he chewed on a wad of Cypharian Scran that he had bought from a shifty fellow he found outside the spaceport. It gave him quite a buzz of energy.

“I thought that fat Eopie’s belly was full of water like any sensible desert animal would have like a Spammel or a Blurg but no oh no no no it’s full of gas disgusting smelly gas and what’s the point of that in a desert animal how is that evolutionarily sound I ask you so maybe we should have gotten a a a Bantha but they have all that hair that disgusting oily dirty hair and those lips I mean sometimes you just want to kiss those lips but they are so unsanitary or maybe a Gundark… a Gundark yes wh.. what is a Gundark anyway Stabbie?”

“It’s a deadly red carnivorous creature with sixteen razor sharp claws, sir.” replied ST-4B calmly.

“So so so maybe not one of them though that might be fun GRAAAH heh so maybe a Bantha a shaved Bantha that has been given a solid disinfection and mouthwash hhmff yes a big spray of chemicals especially in that mouth mmm such lips.”

Cypharian Scran tends to make one rather hyper and blathery.

As he jabbered away, much to the regret of ST-4B for prompting this tirade, Tyler trudged on, lugging a flagon of water over one shoulder which he retrieved from the poor deceased eopie.

To be honest these adventures tended to start a little disastrously and Tyler kind of liked it that way.

“Pain proves that you are alive and living in a Galaxy that pushes back at you as you fight it yes father? What pain is there in selling X Wings? You and your damned pew-pew X Wings but now you are dead and the dead shouldn’t complain so much father FATHER! I am spending your money your disgusting war blood stained money to discover deep hidden SECRETS OF THE GALAXY things you wouldn’t fathom are buried in dungeons and palaces and asteroids that your mundane head full of factories and profit margins could never understand. You may be dead but EXPAND YOUR MIND father! Pain! That is what makes an endeavor real not a number in an IGBC bank account so stop yelling at me father!”

So, anyway, as Tyler continues his obsessive rambling… “Father! You have Blood BLOOD! on your hands!” …I will tell you that the two of them might have turned back two days ago and gotten back to Bulungur Spaceport safely, if Tyler was not in such a manic state and could make such decisions rationally… “What about a Luggabeast?” …but now with just a drizzle of water left in the flagon their only option was to trudge forwards to their destination.

“Are we nearly there? Nearly? Almost nearly?” Tyler asked with his wrist-comm held up to his scarf-covered mouth. The roar of blasting sand made his voice even more muffled.

“Are we there yet are we we must be almost there are we?”

The floating torture orb, with its syringes and surgical instruments safely tucked away inside, pumped extra power into his repulsorlift and flew up high into the air for a moment for a better view. He cut Tyler’s ranting short and comm’d back “Wipe your googles and have a look ahead. You appear to have survived another day of your foolish life.”

Tyler scrubbed his goggle lenses with his fingers and there, finally, he could see the vague outline of tall minarets and high walls through the storm. He let out a little squeak of excitement. One last push. He trudged on through the shifting sands... “Now a Zilobeast that's bigger than a Luggabeast isn't it? That could step over those walls oh yes we should go back and get a Zilobeast” He was exhausted, but the drugs kept him ranting and moving.

And then his feet hit hard paved stone. He looked up and there, ahh… “There it is there it is there it is Ah! I'm coming Mighty Emir oh yes!” …it was the Grand Arch of the fabled Ulugh Beg Observatory.

Vaguely he could see the intricate design adorned the surrounding wall. “Oh now this is craftsmanship this is art not like an X Wing father.” A flowing, spiraling, script inlaid in gold that praised the Goodness of their God. Supposedly there were mosaics telling stories of the long extinct natives of this planet, but Tyler wasn't in the right mental state to take in their details right at this moment.

The man and the orb just needed to get out of the storm. ST-4B needed to put his charge to sleep before he collapsed and then power himself down. Tyler stepped through the gate and into the relative peace and darkness inside the walls of this palace. The noise of the wind and sand were finally no longer engulfing them. There was a quiet stone corner waiting for him to sleep in.

ST-4B opened a panel and popped out his syringe.

“Now bend over sir.”

“This this this is so embarrassing can’t you jab my arm instead?” asked Tyler as bent his knees and poked out his butt.

ST-4B floated down and around and stabbed him in the rump with 50mg of Benzodiazepine. “A needle into those skinny sticks? If you ate a solid meal. A bit of protein and fat. Then you’d handle these treks so much better.”

“Oh don’t you start that up again I eat I eat.” grizzled Tyler, now talking a bit slower.

“I’m not starting anything up.”

“Yes you… don’t start… uh, that's the the um thhh…” Tyler’s knees went weak and he slumped down onto the ground. He curled up into a ball, the wonders of their destination could wait, and fell into blissful sleep.

“Goodnight sir” said the torture droid gently.

ST-4B floated down to the ground, set a timer for 8 hours, and put himself into low power mode.

 

I had a bunch of questions too, but then I got to the comments and saw the @Findswoman had already asked them! This is a really intriguing start and a strange, but enticing introduction to a character who is high as high can be and a (for once) much saner torture droid (and that's saying something). I really enjoyed this

 

2. The Annex

ST-4B used his manipulator arm to place a tiny sprinkle of Uscru Fizz on Tyler’s lips to lightly jumpstart his engine.

“Sir, sir. Wake up sir.”

The manipulator clamps on his arm gently pinched Tyler’s nose.

“Mmmhff. Okay okay.” He awoke, dazed. Benzodiazepine made him foggy in the morning.

Bleary eyes blinked, trying to focus, and Tyler dusted at the layer of sand that had settled on him as he slept. He cricked his neck left and right and sat up, and twisted his spine. The pain Tyler felt in his joints as he moved was his reward. His cracked dry lips and red sand scoured cheeks. These were some of the trophies he would take from this adventure.

“Come here Stabbie. Help me… help me up.”

ST-4B floated over and lowered down. Tyler wrapped his arms around the orb and was lifted to his feet as it floated up.

Back on Coruscant he had the droid refurbished and upholstered with a nicely decadent purple velvet lining. It suited the drug dens and other sordid Underworld holes that he frequented, but the velvet tended to pick up dirt and here the sand was deeply embedded.

“You’ve got sand everywhere. We'll find an upholstery cleaner back at the Spaceport.” said Tyler as he stabilized himself on his weak legs.

“I don't think Mining Contractors have much use for that kind of service.” replied ST-4B.

Up on his feet, he gave his droid a bit of a brush with his hands to get some of the sand out of the velvet.

ST-4B popped out of a flap, a cup containing a beige powder. Ground Nootropic Cordyceps. Tyler took a pinch of it. A little sniff up his left nostril.

“Ooh.”

Now his eyes opened wide. Immediately his whole body was awake.

“Hey… HEY!”

The colors on the walls around him assaulted his eyes.

“Look Stabbie! It’s beautiful.” He gave the droid a kiss on its side. “Thank you for getting me here. Ohhhh!”

The room was quite warm. Streaks of gold morning sunlight streamed into the room from high windows. They seem to whisper wishes of peace and holiness to him. He undid the fasteners on his heavy desert jacket and dropped it off his shoulders, setting his soul free and revealing his short, slight body. He had some muscle, as you would expect from these physical excursions of his, but his recreational drug use helped keep the kilograms off.

A picked up the water flagon and tilted it high over his mouth. A few precious sparkling drops and it was empty. The water drops themselves were so beautiful. They filled him with magic and love.

This dazed, delicate man in soft white robes looked up at the tall stone walls of this alcove just inside the main archway they had come through the night before. The crisscrossing designs of inlaid blue and tan tiles mesmerized his drug addled mind.

“Ha! A parade! Sing! I’m here! Sing for me!” he cried out.

The archway was lined with a mosaic of ancient Samarqian musicians. Mauve… the mauve particularly dazzled him… multi-tentacled beings with their cylindrical bodies wrapped in festive cloth of red and gold. They played their instruments using their blowholes, or strumming things that were somewhat like a guitar, or waving their tentacles in dramatic curves to beat their drums.

“Yes, yes. All very pretty sir.” said ST-4B patiently. “The Observatory is down this way. Follow me sir.”

But Tyler stood, his large blue eyes still transfixed by the scene.

“This is rather brighter than that Sith Tomb on um was it Odacer-Faustin I think? Darth… Scabrous, was it? Old Scabbie, remember him? Dark, dark, miserable. Such a gloomy mopey guy. Moaning ‘ohhh my Apprentice poisoned me’. They all poison their Masters. That's what they’re supposed to do. Absolute Power! Ha you're a ghost now! Not much you can do when you’re a ghost. No fun being a ghost, eh father?"

“You were rather cruel mocking him, sir.”

“Fair enough. The poor fellow was trapped in such a miserable place.”

Tyler was wide awake now and his engine was humming.

“But this is so BRIGHT! Heavenly and alive!”

“Much happier, sir.” replied ST-4B.

“Maybe we could bring him here. Trap him in a Kyber Crystal or a Holocron or what do you trap evil spirits in? And bring him to this bright and beautiful place.”

“That would be extraordinarily dangerous, sir,” warned the droid.

“I guess so, but look at the colors! He’d love it here! And where is our host? Emir Ulugh Beg Mirza! You are in here, somewhere. Show yourself you gorgeous wiggly emperor! Let's chat.”

Sith Lords quickly forgotten, he could feel in the vibrations of the air that the Emir was here. Embedded in these color filled stones. He could feel all of them in his breath and in the vibrations in his head. Years of imbibing illegal chemicals will do that to a man.

Depicted up on the wall was life. This joyful cephalopod procession was frozen in stone and jewels. Their spirits were within it. They waved their tentacles in the air as they sang in their liquid burbly voices. They were a long extinct race. A long dead empire, if you could call a civilization that barely covered a single continent on a single planet an “empire”, but he sensed them alive in the stones if only he could look at them with the right eyes.

“A little more Cordyceps, please Stabbie.” Tyler took another sniff of lovely toxic powder, making his eyes water.

ST-4B’s repulsor’s rhythmic throbbing got a little louder and faster.

“Let's move along, Boss. There’s bigger and better sights to see”.

So Tyler followed Stabbie down the hallway, still blissfully looking upwards at the stories and the colors. The brilliant colors.

As they walked they passed large heavy doors that hinted at discoveries for another time. His heart kerthumped quickly with the stimulants. He looked wide eyed at the depictions of Samarqian life covering the walls. Squidlike beings swimming and catching fish in swamps.

“Hello hello squidlings. I love you.” Tyler wiggled fingers of peace at them.

The real swamps that these cephalopods once swam in had obviously dried up long ago. It was all desert out there now. Centuries ago Humans descended from the sky and started mining every corner of the planet. Their industrial vaporators sucked the moisture out of the air to be used in the processing of the minerals, and so the atmosphere gradually dried out, and the rain stopped falling, and the swamps shrank, and the Samarqis grew fewer and fewer until one day people stopped noticing them at all.

The droid led the way onwards, its repulsors still making that terrifying throbbing hum that in the past had signaled impending horrors for so many Imperial detainees.

 

Honestly, if you would have written "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny", @GregMcP, there would have been no plot holes, questionable choices and silly dialogues. Your stories are always straight, filled with gems of knowledge and believable characters. I was sucked straight in!

* calls like the guy from the trailer of English DVDs: "Thank you!"

 

Oh my goodness. I expected that this story would be... unexpected, both from your first idea in the Mini-Games thread, then from your brief description in the ABC of OCs thread, but I did not expect this.

So. We have a version of Indiana Jones, complete with daddy issues and all, who is high as a kite and is travelling to this ancient Samarqi site in the company of his ex-torture droid Stabbie who has been refurbished in purple velvet lining

Like Finds I have a bajillion questions: what is Tyler's purpose here, how did he end up in this state, why does he need to combine drugs with his explorations; but I'm sure that we'll get answers to those – or maybe not, because even if Tyler gives us answers I'm not entirely sure we should believe them.

I love how you included the architecture and the bright colours of the tiles as an integral element of the story, in that Tyler perceives them differently depending on whether he's in his "hungover" state or in a freshly drugged one.

And I'm also very intrigued by the Samarqis. The explanation of the planet's backstory, especially with that ominous last line "until one day people stopped noticing them at all", seems to imply that they are extinct, but they clearly were once a thriving, cultured civilisation, and I assume that Tyler will find more than just pretty architecture here.

This was an awesome beginning, I can't wait to read more!

 

Thanks everyone!
Just don't set your expectations too high.

Tyler's father. I really don't explore him here. I had an idea to use him later in the story, but I couldn't quite make it work smoothly. I just wanted to introduce the fact that Tyler is rich due to inheritance from his dead father who was a senior exec in Incom Corp. The company that made X Wings. And this allows him to travel about on poorly thought out adventures and waste vast amounts of money on recreational drugs.

Whether his father is actually talking back to him or not, well, who knows.

 

3. The Feast Of The Thirty Heroes



Pushing through a particularly dramatic door, they entered a huge circular hall.

“Oh this is just grand!”

At the hall’s center was a huge round granite table surrounded by circular stools upon which the many tentacled Samarqis would have sat their cylindrical bodies with tendrils splayed out in every direction. Brass bowls and goblets that once held what were now long extinct delicacies were scattered about and covered in sand and dust.

Tyler looked up at the walls. The mosaics here looked rather more mythical. Brave cephalopod knights pointing spears at a tentacled beast arising from swamp. A battle between mauve and orange armies mounted on reptilian beasts. The Emir was depicted at the fore of the mauve army, larger than the rest, with his mighty spear striking down an orange foe. His royal brass circlet upon his floppy head shining with his god given authority.

Tyler's eyes followed rays of mosaic sunshine from the Emir up to the domed roof, when there was a depiction of a huge bird emitting the beams from her chest. Large golden talons and dazzling widespread wings of multicolored feathers. The intense colors assaulted Tyler drug-addled eyes. A godlike creature protecting the royal heroes battling below.

He could feel the echoes of the feast that once took place here. He could almost see the memory of grand kingly evenings of food and drink, now centuries distant, forgotten and crumbling to dust. Gargly songs and blubbery laughter. Tales of bravery and toasts to the Emir.

Tyler picked up a goblet from the floor and filled it with a handful of sand.

“To you, Most Intelligent and Wise Emir! May you live forever!” he toasted.

“Grand Emir Ulugh Beg Mirza! Live Forever!” he imagined the Thirty Heroes of the Empire responding.

At one end of the table he saw a particularly ornate stool embossed with stone carvings of crustaceans all posed to hold the seated diner aloft. Obviously this must have been the Emir’s throne. He walked over, boots steps echoing, and he sat high and proud, legs manspread in the manner of ancient tentacles. Like a King.

So this was the place. This was where he could feel it in the air. If it was at all possible, this was where he could meet the spirit of the Emir.

“Stabbie, perhaps it’s time for that Dathomir mix.”

Dutifully, St-4B shuffled around his internal inventory of substances, and finally popped out his syringe, but without the accompanying needle.

“Very well, sir. Please sit still.” and the droid floated over to Tyler sitting upon the throne.

The existing chemicals in his system kept the man fidgety. The droid extended a delicate manipulation arm towards Tyler’s eye.

“Still. Please.”

“Okay okay. His spirit is here, you know. Isn’t he? I mean, is he just a manifestation of my imagination, because why would he be in the pictures on the walls?”

“Sir. Focus. Hold still.”

“Hold still. Yes. I can do that. I can… maybe… maybe he’s a warping of the natural Force properties of this place. Maybe…”

Thrum-Thrum-Thrum. The Interrogation droid’s repulsors throbbing grew louder. Angrier.

“Sir!”

“Maybe… what was I saying again?”

“Sir I have in my inventory a chemical from my previous employment. Mivacurium has the dual properties of inducing paralysis and also makes the client’s nerve endings hypersensitive so that even the lightest touch causes intense pain. Shall I inject that sir? Shall I?”

“Sit still?” said Tyler meekly.

“Completely still, sir.”

“But…”

THRUM-THRUM-THRUM-THRUM

Tyler sat still.

Delicately ST-4B used his manipulator arm to pull Tyler's lower left eyelid out and squeezed in a couple of teardrops of an unhealthily yellow liquid.

A different mix of spice. Txalin was derived from Dathomirian Chirodactyl guano. It was reputed to possess some of the magical properties inherent in the indigenous life of Dathomir. At the very least it was a strong hallucinogen, and maybe it gave the imbiber a view into shadowy realms, which seemed appropriate for this adventure. It was also quite an expensive Spice. Trading with Dathomirian Night Sisters was a life threatening endeavor that demanded a generous reward. Indeed buying drugs in the lower levels of the Coruscant Underworld from the type of person who did business with Night Sisters was a dangerous venture in itself.

Tyler looked across the table at the empty seats, alternately squinting and opening his eyes as wide as he could, trying to make them focus. Gradually vague blurs from his overactive imagination seemed to condense onto the stools around the table. Their tentacles seemed to lift goblets into the air. One blur seemed to make a blubbery speech. To him. To the Endless Wisdom of Emir Ulugh Beg.

And so through Tyler, the Emir, whether real or imagined, stood and responded.

“My good friends. The Thirty Heroes of our Samarqand! I am so honored to sit here and feast with you fine warriors.”

The Emir’s Heroes hooted and whistled. At least Tyler imagined it so.

“These Humans. These bony creatures of stiff bent limbs. They have come to our land in their hideous machines of iron and fire. They have come to steal the heart and soul of our Empire. They steal the very water that gives our land life. Why? How can these humans live in a land without water? They are insane! But we cannot fight them. They are weak but they have brought with them clockwork machines of great destruction that cannot be harmed by spear or arrow. I am your Emir and I have felt ashamed that I cannot protect my people.”

Abruptly Tyler jumped to his feet.

“Are you okay sir?” ST-4B buzzed.

“It’s okay, Stabbie. I am… I am still here. I think. umm.” He looked at the droid with unfocused eyes. “I think.”

And then his imperial demeanor returned. “Follow us, clockwork slave. Heroes! Follow me! I have found a way to bring us our greatest hero. I have made a machine greater than any human monstrosity. It will call her. And she will save us. Come and see our wonderful creation!”

He looked to the ground blank eyed at a piece for brass projecting out of the sand. He reached down, “Ahh. What are you doing down there?” and pulled up a large brass ring. A soft blow to clean it, and then gently with two hands he placed it upon his head, though it was obviously too large and fell down into being sort of a shiny necklace.

Then, purpose renewed, he cried “Heroes! Follow me!” and with the twitchy floppy energy of a person who doesn't quite understand how his body operates, Tyler staggered out of the Dining Hall.

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4. The Corridor of Devices

They walked through rooms of brass devices. Clockwork complex twisting machines of uncertain purpose. The Emir was reputed to be a man of Science and Magic, which are essentially the same thing if you truly understand them. He was the first great Scientist of the Samarqis, and sadly also their last.

Tyler, or the Emir, tapped a fingernail, *tung* *tung*, on a complex clockwork arc of rotating balls of metal that might have been a working model of Samarqand with Bukhara and Altai, its two orbiting moons.

“Ah yes. Our first experiment. See the precision? Everything is exactly to scale. Exactly.” He seemed to be talking to an invisible audience.

He gave the ball that probably represented Samarqand a bit of a rub with the hem of his white gown. Giving it a shine and clean.

“Exactly”. He seemed so proud.

On the wall mosaics showed the Emir using the devices. Perhaps with some careful observation of them they could figure out what these devices actually did. But for now it seemed like Tyler already thought that he knew, and that seemed enough.

Onwards.

Another more complex brass contraption. Wheels spinning about metal wheels. Perhaps a replica of the entire Sassasian System.

“You see these wonders that our craftsmen have built? By the most skilled jewelers from Bukhara. Details you cannot see with your naked eye. Come and see…”

His tone momentarily changed from Grand Emir back to his regular sketchy drug addict self.

“... Stabbie? Are you still here? This all rather trippy, eh? I am getting rather confused with who I am. Keep up and look after me. Please. They need you too.”

“I am always here to serve you, sir”

With that, Tyler raised his shoulders into the bonelessly confident manner of the Emir Ulug Beg again. With a dramatic but floppy flair, he gave a grand arched door a hard shove and they stepped through into The Observatory.

 

Sorry for the delay, life as usual. And... I'm not convinced by this chapter, but I need to let it go. So here it is, with many questions left unanswered.

5. The Observatory

Another large circular room with tall towering walls, perhaps a hundred meters high, that reached up to an open sky. The wind blew down from above, creating spirals of sand in the air and played a complex metallic hum as it blew through the intricate brass structure of pipes that weaved up the center to the roof, and down into the bottomless darkness of a pit below.

Perhaps the brass pipes were a model of Hyperspace Lanes, thought ST-4B. The distinctive weaving seemed familiar to navigation maps in his memory banks.

“How did you figure out Hyperspace lanes?” said the droid.

The pipes hummed eerily and Tyler, or the Emir, ST-4B didn’t know who he was here with him right now, looked up at this piece of artwork, arms outstretched.

“Behold my beautiful star machine!” the Emir declared.

“My Heroes! Do you see what it is? Can you imagine?” He looked about at his non-existent followers. “They are… they are… “ his regal demeanor crumbled again. Deep breaths.

”Stabbie! Clockwork Slave! Fetch me my…. No. No, he’s gone. I need him back Stabbie. I, uhh…”

His body spasmed. His neck twitched his head sharply to the left. The Txalin was wearing off and his body was shaking with withdrawal.

“Midihexachloride ”, Tyler managed to stammer.

“With everything else you’ve taken, is that wise sir?”, the droid asked.

“We can’t let him go. Do it. A hundred milligrams will do it. I think. A hundred.”

“Very well, sir. One Hundred milligrams of Midihexachloride.”

The droid internally clunked around vials of chemistry searching for the right one to insert into his syringe. He obeyed his master’s command.

So Midihexachloride is a potent cocktail of Force enhancing, mind expanding, magic conjuring chemicals that enables contact with the Hidden Universe. It was derived from a mix of artificially engineered molecules and cloned Jedi blood. This potent concoction was produced in the lab of surviving Kaminoans who had turned their cloner skills to the smaller scale, but just as morally doubtful, occupation of brewing designer drugs.

That little flap on the side of ST-4B opened and out emerged the syringe filled with a deep red liquid. A long, too long, chrome needle tipped the affair. The droid’s throbbing grew louder. Tyler could have easily disabled that ominous tone, but he rather liked it.

“Okay. Do it.” Tyler tensed up, anticipating the sting. “Go on.”

“Stop pacing and stand still then sir.”

Thrum-Thrum-thrumthrumthrum-rumrumrumruhruhruh-r-r-rrrrrrrr…

ST-4B floated in towards his neck. The chrome spike pushed at the vein and, ugh, the skin resisted for a moment and, ahh, the spike slid in.

That delicious moment of the sharp stab, and ahhhnnngggk. Every muscle in his body painfully contracted. He fell to the floor as his back bent and his knees folded up his legs, hitting the tiles with the back of his head hard. Hopefully there’s no concussion, thought ST-4B. For a while he lay, twisting his arms and legs and backbone on the stone floor, struggling for breath.

It took a while for Tyler to regain control of his limbs. Eventually he staggered to his knees, shaking, dazed and looking about as if he was confused about where he was at this moment. Deep breaths, and gradually intelligence returned to his eyes. The tension dropped away from his body and he seemed to relax. A smile grew on his face. His eyes sparkled. It seemed like a new person inhabited his body, and he floated to his feet with his arms and legs and body moving gracefully as if boneless. His white robes flowed in the wind. Standing confident and regal, he looked up at the tall brass spiraling pipes.

“My beautiful creation.” he said. The regal voice had returned.

“My Thirty Heroes! Look at this wonder! With this we can call to her. Today we can fight them!!”. Tyler stopped his speech. He looked about, confused.

“Where are you? My good men?”

He turned a full circle in the empty, dusty observatory, seeing nothing but the distant sound of wind and a lone floating droid.

“My Heroes. Were they ever here?” he asked.

He turned to ST-4B. “Clockwork Slave, were we always alone?”

He looked at each of his arms. With his right fist he hit his left forearm. He sighed. Disappointed.

He looked about the room. “Where are my scientists?”

He kicked at the floor, sending sand scattering.

His shoulders sagged. “So I failed.”

“Slave, where are my people? Did they at least escape to Gur-e-Amir perhaps? They were always loyal allies.”

“They are gone, Emir.” said ST-4B, “They are no more. I expect your allies are gone too.”

“All of them?” asked the Emir, aghast.

The torture droid stayed silent.

“These ridiculous bony beasts killed us?”. He looked at his arms, hands, fingers. “This idiot murdered us all?”

He made a fist, and thumped his chest. Hard. And again. Thump.

“Murderers. I need a knife.” Thump.

“Tyler, would you wake up sir.” called out ST-4B.

Thump. Thump.

“Wake up from your dream idiot boy, so I can kill you. I should throw you into the pit to see the beast below.” said the Emir.

“Sir.” ST-4B searched his internal inventory for a psychic deadener injectable.

The Emir pulled at the flesh of his cheek. “I am the dream.”

“Ha! I am the dream! I understand now. Just a dream inside an idiot bony human. Ha ha.”

He gave his cheek a slap.

“Ha ha ha. I’m just an idiot's dream.”

He looked up at his bronze contraption.

“So this invention of my wisest craftsmen failed? Did I die trying to use it? Does it even work?”

The Emir sank into thoughtful silence for a moment. A decision made, he took a deep breath.

“Aaiiaaaaaaaa…”, the Emir sang a high single warbling note. “... aaaaaiiaaa”

Up high, the brass pipes began to hum the same note. Doubling and redoubling their volume. Resonating with the Emirs voice.

“Can you sing Slave? Sing! Sing as I sing! Obey your idiot master!”

So, ST-4B sang. His Sonic Torture Device was normally set to emit frequencies to cause pain in his detainees, but he could adjust it to a wide range. A bit of reprogramming and it imitated the Emir’s warbling note with an accuracy inherent in being a well programmed Interrogation Droid.

“Aaaaiaaaaiiaaaaa…”

“Now sing a second note. You can sing two at once. I know you can, machine. Obey!”

“Hoooooouuooouoo…”
“Aiiiaaaaaiiaaaiiaaaa…”

And the pipes that disappeared down into the pit below began to rumble. Soon the stone floor beneath them began vibrating.

The dust in the air seemed to divide into streaks of dense and sparse particles. A visual representation of the frequencies engulfing the chamber.

The Emir changed to muttering something utterly alien. A squelchy saliva filled squid prayer of indecipherable incantations that seemed to have a deep fundamental importance.

ST-4B looked up as the blue sky far above darkened. A night sky of stars gradually appeared.

“Keep singing! Don't you dare stop!” and the Emir continued his wet cephalopod prayers.

“Hoooooouuooouoo…”
“Aiiiaaaaaiiaaaiiaaaa…”

The stars, they moved. From an infinite distance they seemed to be moving, stretching, streaking impossibly into the top of the open roof. Into the Observatory itself, and then fading off into the walls. The stars grew brighter and faster, zipping into streaks of light. Stabbie knew what he was seeing. He had seen it many times before from the inside of their shuttle cockpit.

Hyperspace.

The Emir's prayers grew louder and more frantic. He waved his arms bonelessly at the stars. A dot of color appeared in the infinite distance. Colors. Growing. Closer, larger. Becoming a discernible form.

ST-4B zoomed his visual sensor. Was that a bird?

The bird grew steadily from a distant speck, ever larger in an impossible way, until there she was. A magnificent creature inside the chamber and spreading her fabulous wings with feathers of thirty bright colors with her golden beak and talons.

“Simurgh! The great healer!” the Emir cried and he reached, fingers aching, for the fantastic godlike creature. “Please! Save us!”

As the Emir called out to this impossible flying god that filled the chamber above them, the stones beneath their feet rumbled and jolted. Something was climbing up from the pit.

The pipes vibrated and hummed and rattled.

“I am here Simurgh! Take me! My life for my people!” the Emir screamed, arms outstretched high. The Hyperspacial stars flew around the outspread wings of the mighty bird.

“Sir..” ST-4B new this had to stop. His master was about to be somehow sacrificed. He prepared 50ml of Haloperidol, and antipsychic drug that worked well when he saved his master from old Darth Scabrous.

Below, the bronze pipe tower shook violently and with loud clangs as a huge tentacle, and then another, dragged themselves up from the depths.

“Save my people!” and the Emir ran at the pit. ST-4B flew directly at the body of his master and knocked him off his feet.

“Slave! How dare you!” and he tried to get to his feet, but Stabbie pushed at him and with loud thrumming shoved a needle into his master's stomach. The man, whoever he was, moaned in pain.

“Stay down sir. Please.”

Another uncurling tentacle whipped up and wrapped around the bird's claw. Simurgh let out an echoing ear shattering avian screech and tried to pull herself up and away, but the creature from below held tight.

Above god battled god as the great octopoid creature wrapped itself around the bird's legs, trying to pull it down.

Groans and shrieks and metallic clangs filled the air.

“Sir?” asked ST-4B.

The man on the ground looked up, dazed.

“Stabbie?”

“Welcome back sir, we have to run.”

“Run? Okay. I… I need 50 milligrams of…”

“Sir, please run now.”

Tyler looked up at the vast battle above him, seemingly surprised as if it was the first time he noticed it. “Oh wow, that’s… they’re rather big, aren’t they.”

He staggered to his feet, wobbly, as the creatures smashed into the chamber walls, sending stones crashing down.

“I. I don’t think I can.” The floor shook and he fell.

With a whir, ST-4B lowered himself to the floor in front of his master.

“Grab on. I'll carry you.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You can't carry me.” and a great slab of granite smashed down beside them. Gouts of green blood splashed about as Simurgh bit into a tentacle.

“Okay okay.” Tyler grabbed onto a couple of sensor protuberances and awkwardly leaned over the curved, purple velvet droid’s body. Then with strained whirs the droid lifted the man I into the air. Tyler turned out to be even lighter than ST-4B thought.

He whizzed through the Observatory entrance as fast as his repulsors could carry him. Through the hallways as the brass contraptions clanged and the ancient mosaics above them cracked with each shake, showering them with brilliant colorful tiles and gemstones. Roars and screeches echoed down the halls behind them.

They flew through the Grand Arch of the entrance and out into the desert, and then some more, until finally ST-4B slowed and gently lowered Tyler to the ground.

Looking back at the Observatory, Tyler saw Simurgh burst up into the sky, with her glorious hypercolored wing outstretched, and a torn tentacle hanging limp from her talons.

With a mighty screech and a flap of those wings that generated a gust of wind that nearly knocked Tyler off his feet, the mighty bird rose up higher, clouds forming around her. With each mighty flap she rose higher and the clouds grew thicker and darker, until she could no longer be seen and the sky around the Observatory of Ulug Beg, for the first time in centuries, was full of churning grey clouds.

There was a crack of thunder. Tyler jumped in surprise. And a flash of lightning, and the sky burst into soaking, cooling, rain.

 

To quote Tyler: Oh, this is just grand!

I'm going to start with something that may come across as a detail, but I absolutely loved your chapter titles: The Feast Of The Thirty Heroes, The Corridor of Devices, The Observatory – they give such a mythical dimension to Tyler's investigation of the ruins, and I was genuinely shocked when the myth turned out to be real.

I also loved your description of the halls and the mosaics that recount the history of the Samarqis and the way you integrated historical elements about Ulugh Beg as narrative points in this story.

And now to get to the meat of my review: how on earth did you manage that transition from imagination to hallucination to reality so smoothly, you brilliant man, you? I was convinced that the emir existed only in Tyler's mind until you switched the POV to Stabbie. The entire sequence with a hyperspace lane opening, and Simurgh the bird materialising, and the tentacled monster emerging from below was simply spectacular. I'm extremely curious to learn what these mythical beasts truly are and how they are involved in the disappearance (and possibly rebirth?) of the Samarqis. Simurgh is apparently already healing their world with rain, but I'm wondering if this tentacled beast is somehow related to the tentacled Samarqis, or if its presence is due to the fact that the Human miners "dug too deep", to borrow an expression from LotR. Either way, I'll be waiting EAGERLY for more.

 

Hi. Thanks for the lovely reviews.

Ummm... I didn't say it explicitly, but "The End". I suppose this could be the start of something larger, but this is all it is. Leaving with the rain falling again.

This was such a a jumble to write.
The first draft was very "straight". Tyler was far more rational, and to be honest an empty vessel to forward the story. He wasn't a complete person.

But... hey, he's full of drugs. He should be a bit deranged, and that meant lead to a whole lot of rewriting, and also a fear that I was making it all incomprehensible.

And the transformation from Tyler to Emir was a painful mess. If it doesn't make sense to you, well, I'm not sure if it does make sense. But at a point I had to stop tweaking it.

A torture droid emerging as the center of sanity and decency in this messy story was a nice accidental development.

Simurgh. This is a creature from Iranian mythology, full of wisdom and benevolence. A fun creature to google if you are interested.

The tentacled beast in pit... ahh well. I had larger themes. Treble notes up high, Bass notes from below. But trying to glue it all together was just too tough. So it just became a monster. A bit unsatisfying for me.

I was also going to throw in Tyler's father giving engineering advice to the Emir, but that's a complication with no real payoff. Too many people talking in the one body.

In the end it had to end. So here we are.