(This is part of an 18000 word chapter which admittedly is a definite overkill. It would probably be divided up in the future to lessen the reader’s load. Also, some plot devices relevant to future plot may already be revealed here, spoiling the experience. As you complete the entire “Lie” epilogue, I would truly appreciate some feedback.)
Manuel never grew tired from the beauty that was to greet him every time he made his way to the edge of the City. And he never possibly will. The City itself, was a beauty, an unrivaled, glorious sparkle in the universe, hovering by itself, resting on no planet, stationary without orbit, no moon or sun to call it’s own. It gave off it’s own light. But it never gave him the adventurous, exotic experience of the raw, naked brilliance of the cosmos out there. His blue eyes glowed slightly, a spot of rich, pure gold in place of the irises as he took in the various colours. The stars returned his unflinching gaze, even as a lone fighter spacecraft rose up from the bottom of his physical vision, hovering ominously. A most unnecessary reminder of it’s presence in his face.
The enemy fleet had parked itself outside one of the City’s four walls. The city never truly had a front, but Manuel happened to be at a most conspicuous place at the right time. This fleet had come a long way. Manuel could see it, their blemished hulls, the weariness of the engines. The space vehicles were slowly repositioning themselves to surround the City entirely. In perfect formation, evenly spread out down to the last inch, like flies around the meal of the ages, held back by an invisible bubble. Their vast numbers were in the millions, but Manuel was only here to see the cosmos. It always gave him conflicting joy in it’s beauty, tarnished with sadness knowing that enemies such as this one awaited out there. It was a time of war. War. The concept of conflict, let alone war. So foreign. It was alien to Manuel. The turrets of the flagship made eye contact with him, a craft of epic proportions, about 100 miles wide, 300 miles long, almost a quarter the size of the cubical City. He sighed dejectedly, unable to comprehend the genesis of this new enemy’s ire.
Blatant hostility at his doorstep notwithstanding, his heart was devoid of trepidation. No fear, no doubt was there to break the peace that he has cultivated since the beginning. The same could definitely be said for every other inhabitant of the city.
The City had no name, his kind simply called it the City, for it was the only one of it’s kind. His kind did not establish settlements at multiple locations, they did not venture out to form new homes, they did not occupy new planets, let alone conquer them, they simply consolidated everything to one place. Or rather, their father did. There were no architects, engineers, or even builders assigned to the construction of the city. Their father managed all that alone. His kind has had the privilege of laying back while their father provided, created, administrated every aspect of their existence. There were only two generations in his entire race. The father; closely followed rest of his people. And all was good. There were no complaints, nothing to improve, nothing to fix. The only thing that grew, figuratively, was their knowledge of foreign races.
This was not to say in any way that Manuel and his brethren were incapable by themselves. Each and every one of them is in possession of wisdom and experience that carried the depths of several millennia, for oftentimes they did receive assignments, not for the good of the city or any system, but only for their own learning and experience. Manuel himself had never left the walls of the city and thus knew very little about war. The same could not be said for the guardian who watched the city vigilantly at all times. Once again, even the guardian’s role was redundant, easily fulfilled by the father, but nevertheless delegated to an individual for his or her own purpose. The current guardian is Lilea, and she was nowhere to be seen at the moment, although her senses spread across and beyond the city and no doubt knew of the enemy at the gates.
A single port opened at the face of a flagship. The vast distance did nothing to impede Manuel’s unparalleled vision. He curiously noted that the ship was shaped like the combat helmet associated with the race of its pilot. A single figure stepped onto the edge, head slightly raised in question, as if awaiting acknowledgment. He would like to speak, Manuel concluded.