Planet Ignis | Chapter 26

...Pac-Man and chess.

The reason so much of the culture in the settlements revolves around their form of chess and other games is simple: the population skews overwhelmingly young. With an average age of just fourteen or fifteen, it’s no surprise that games have become a cornerstone of their society. Even amidst the challenges of a post-apocalyptic existence, there is a vibrancy, a spirit of play, that is uniquely human.

In the following pages, I will outline the rules and significance of their most famous game: Longevity chess...

From “Notes on Ignian Societies” by Hitori Himura, PhD

The ground of Ignis shook violently. The Raptor had fallen fourteen kilometers before finally crashing into the valley floor. Despite diverting power to its jets and attempting to glide toward the cliff, the sheer force of the strike that had sent it flying had been too overwhelming.

As it fell, its systems initiated a full diagnostic scan. The old human had precisely targeted its weakest point, exploiting the vulnerability in its armor. The damage was severe, but the drone’s core systems remained operational. It would take days to restore full functionality, but the critical combat mechanisms were intact.

Upon landing, the Raptor began recalculating. Its tactical algorithms analyzed every detail of the ambush, identifying the weaknesses in its approach. It would not allow such a maneuver to succeed again. Lessons had been learned; adjustments had been made. Its pursuit of the target would resume without hesitation.

The climb began anew. Its elongated limbs clawed at the rocky mountain face with relentless precision. Jets sputtered intermittently, aiding its ascent. After several hours, it reached a point just one kilometer from the summit when a faint tremor rippled through the mountain.

The Raptor paused. A tremor? Its cores buzzed in unison, processing the possibilities. Could it be another ambush? Scanners activated, performing a sweep of the mountain. Its sensors picked up a faint but unmistakable nuclear signature—one far more potent than that of the snow explorer Archimedes. The Raptor’s calculations intensified. Could this be another piece of military hardware from the Phoenix? The likelihood was slim, yet the possibility could not be ignored.

The Raptor surged upward with renewed urgency, climbing faster now. It could not allow such a threat to escape. Its weapon systems were nearly depleted after the battle with the two Blue Monarchs, leaving it reliant on close-quarters combat. It had to act swiftly.

A low hum reverberated across the landscape, silencing the natural sounds of Ignis. Then, the mountain erupted with activity as a ship launched into the sky. The lifeboat’s engines roared, illuminating the rocky terrain with a brilliant glow. On its side, faded letters spelled out Plume V. The Raptor’s appendages unfolded instinctively, scanning the craft with every sensor at its disposal.

Three humans aboard. Two with elevated body temperatures of 100ºC. One, cooler, at 10ºC. A drone emitting a small nuclear signature. The Raptor’s cores triangulated the ship’s trajectory, cross-referencing its database of human settlements. The predicted destination matched perfectly with the location it had deduced from analyzing the statues earlier.

This was it. The settlement. It carried five priority targets: three troublesome humans and two AI cores. To complete its mission, it needed them all.

The Raptor released its grip on the cliff and let itself fall. The wind roared past its battered frame as it descended, its processors working tirelessly to calculate the most efficient route to intercept its prey. Its combat programs aligned in silent precision, driving its singular purpose.

Terminate. Consume. Become whole.

As it plummeted, the Raptor’s mechanical body absorbed the impact of the valley floor with brutal efficiency. Jets flared, limbs extended, and it adjusted to the terrain without hesitation. Within moments, it was moving again, its metallic claws tearing through the rugged Ignian crust.

Above, the ship disappeared into the sky, carrying humanity’s last, desperate hope. Below, the Raptor’s relentless advance continued.

The battle was far from over.

                                             *       

Caution and stealth were no longer necessary ingredients in Hitori’s plan. The ship landed right at the entrance of the Burrows, its presence signaling the settlement’s location to the Raptor. Time was now the only currency that mattered. They had waited patiently for the military drone to come as close to the lab as they dared before taking flight, buying precious hours for the next part of the plan.

So far, everything had unfolded according to Hitori’s agenda. The Raptor had been led by its nose from one location to another, allowing Hitori to buy time while calculating its travel speed. Now, with the coordinates of the settlement confirmed and Stellaris assisting with real-time monitoring, the estimated arrival of the Raptor was precise: three days and four hours. The settlers had that long to prepare.

The trip that had taken Trother and Eli one grueling month on foot—and the Raptor three and a half days—was traversed by the Plume in under two hours. The landing was rough, and as the ship’s ramp descended, Eli and Trother stumbled out, unsteady on their feet.

“Why did you try to kill us?” Eli demanded, his voice sharp with irritation.

“I didn’t try to kill you,” Hitori replied evenly.

“Oh yeah? Then what do you call that?” Eli shot back, pointing to Trother, who was bent over and vomiting to the side.

“Eli, I’m a geneticist, not a pilot,” Hitori countered, his tone unruffled. “And the gravity didn’t help. But at least we didn’t crash, did we?”

“Whatever,” Eli muttered, shoving his oxygen mask toward the doctor. “Here. Take this. You won’t last long without proper training.”

“Thank you, young man,” Hitori said, accepting the mask with a grateful nod.

A group of Oranges rushed toward them, led by Kawaki. The lean, weathered man greeted Eli with a brisk nod. “Eli, I brought as many as I could to help.” His eyes shifted to Hitori, and a flicker of recognition lit his face. “This must be Dr. Hitori. It’s an honor, Doctor.”

“The honor is mine,” Hitori replied, bowing respectfully.

The old, bearded man in yellow robes trailing behind Kawaki gasped as he caught sight of Trother. “Oh, my word! Trother, look at you, old friend.”

Trother managed a weak smile.

“Did you bring food?” Hitori interjected.

“Of course. Here.” Kawaki handed him a small pouch filled with nutrient pellets. Hitori shoved as many as he could into his mouth, using the potential energy in the air to polarize them. He noted how Eli, despite his evident hunger, took only a single pellet. Why was that?

“Please coordinate things here, Kawaki,” Eli instructed. “Make sure the drone is brought in first. I’ll help my master myself.”

Kawaki barked orders, and the Oranges Enhanced their muscles to unload the equipment. Hitori noted how Archimedes had been powered down to prevent overheating. Designed for snow exploration, the drone’s nuclear reactor was ill-suited for the searing temperatures of the valley. The equipment would have been destroyed had it been operational during transit.

The entrance to the Burrows was a jagged crack in the cliff face, narrowing into a natural tunnel formation. As Hitori followed Eli, who was supporting a faltering Trother, he noted how the walls of the tunnel seemed to grow smoother and straighter the farther they walked.

“Did you do this?” Hitori asked, marveling at the melted, wax-like appearance of the ignium walls.

“One of our most famous kings did it in one Burst,” Eli answered, pride evident in his voice. “This is Howner Avenue.”

Hitori was utterly impressed. Who would have thought that the Celer mutation could enable such a titanic feat?

As they continued deeper, Hitori noticed human-shaped metal statues lining the tunnel walls. At first, they seemed like suits of armor, solemn guardians of a forgotten age. But as he drew closer, he realized they were frozen forms, some intact with discernible facial features, others warped and disfigured.

“What is this?” Hitori asked, gesturing toward the statues. “An art gallery?”

Eli frowned, his pace faltering for a moment. “These are the tribe’s people,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with reverence.

The weight of the revelation pressed down on Hitori. This was no mere passage; it was a cemetery, a testament to the lives sacrificed for the tribe’s survival. Hundreds of statues stood silently, immortalizing generations of settlers.

“What turns them into statues?” Hitori asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“When we die, we stop producing energy. The ignium in our bodies hardens.”

So that’s why. Hitori had wondered whether the settlers embalmed their dead, but now it made sense. It was not a custom but a natural phenomenon.

They pressed on, passing statue after statue. Hitori’s gaze lingered on one particular figure, a woman whose arms stretched outward, her expression serene. Perhaps she had been a mother, reaching for her child in her final moments. Each statue told a story of struggle and sacrifice.

“Hang on, Master. We’re almost there,” Eli said, his voice steady despite the weight of Trother leaning against him.

Finally, they reached the end of the tunnel. A heavy metal door loomed before them, welded into the ignium walls. Hitori recognized it instantly. It was the same design as the door of the Plume, the lifeboat that had brought him to this world so long ago. The settlers had recycled it, repurposing remnants of the Phoenix into the heart of their new home.

Chapter 27