Traitor

by C R MacFarlane

  The room turned dark again. A flash of sparks, and emergency lights cast a dim red glow. The shadow of a wild animal dove across the room — a girl, Halud realized. It ripped out a guard’s throat a split second before the hand reached up, tearing the camera down.

  For an instant, the vid turned to static, then changed to another angle. The creature fired laz-bolts at six soldiers before snapping the spine of another, and tearing the face off the last.

  She disappeared from the room, none of the guards so much as twitching. The horrible violence lasted no more than a few seconds.

  Halud’s heart thumped erratically in his chest. He knew, without a doubt, the vicious creature in the room was Sarrin, her telltale dreadlocks and brilliant blue eyes.

  “Your sister did this. She killed every one of my men in that facility tearing it down on herself.”

  Halud blinked. If Sarrin could do that, what else could she do? “How do you know she’s dead?”

  “Her tracking chip was found in the wreckage.”

  “What about —?”

  “She destroyed my facility, my labs. My head researcher was there with her. She killed him with a view screen.” Hap rewound the video until it showed the exact moment the flash of blue went flying across the room.

  Sarrin never even touched it, Halud saw as he studied the freeze-frame, she still hung tied in the middle of the room. He gasped. What had they done to her?

  “Someone will pay for this. Strength must be maintained. This is your fault, Halud.”

  Halud shuddered as Hap slammed his fist on the desk hard enough to crack it. Inadvertently, he turned his head away, his eyes landing on the river of blood on the mural.

  Hap did bear a striking resemblance to the God depicted above it, to the fist of Strength painted above the river of blood.

  Halud’s heart started to pound again, rapidly and violently inside of his chest. This was a game of survival. A game he had played his entire life from the moment his parents had gotten sick and begged him to run with Sarrin. He set his jaw, refusing to show even the slightest hint of weakness. “It is not my fault what you did to my sister.”

  Hap’s face flared a deep shade of red.

  Halud let a growl edge into his voice, leaning forward in his chair. “Not my fault you couldn’t control your own weapon.”

  “If you weren’t the Poet…” Hap threatened.

  “But I am. And you need me. The folk look to me.” He thought of the latest communique to cross his console. “You speak of renaming this planet again, but without me, the folk will never accept your plan. And if they never do that, how will they ever forget that there was an Earth before this one? How will they ever forget what the Gods allowed to happen to their home?”

  Hap stared at him, mouth agape.

  Standing now, Halud braced his arms on the desk, hanging menacingly over the Speaker who crumpled with each word.

  Hap reached his hand under the desk, searching for the panic button that was hidden there.

  “Don’t do it.” Halud bent his voice, calibrating it to control the Speaker. But the doors still opened behind him a second later — Hap was resistant.

  But the guards who entered weren’t. He reached a hand up quickly, putting an arm on the Speaker. Halud had been playing the game of survival a very, very long time. “It’s okay, First Speaker. Calm deep breaths.” He exaggerated his lungs rising and falling rapidly, as though encouraging the demigod to breathe.

  He turned then to the guards. He modulated his voice, lacing soothing and trust into the words. “At ease, gentlemen. A false alarm, I’m afraid. The Speaker became agitated with some visceral video feed. A panic attack, I think.”

  The guards paused, looking at each other.

  “Please, if you would, help him to his private quarters and summon Dr. Davidson. Utmost secrecy about this, gentlemen. The Gods appreciate your service and discretion.”

  The guards saluted in unison. Hap sputtered as they grabbed him, gently at first, but more firmly as he struggled.

  “He’s very upset, I’m afraid,” improvised Halud. “Do use caution. He carries Strength with him.”

  The guards nodded and strengthened their grip. “An honour to serve, Master Poet.”

  Halud gave them a gracious nod as they carried the Speaker out the door. Hap fought, but the guards listened to Halud over the protests of the Speaker, such was his power. He collapsed in the chair behind him. Subterfuge, politics. These were his game. His friends may be gone, but he was left. If one still stood, the cause was not lost.

  And he knew what he had to do.

  Quickly, he leapt up from the chair. He nearly jumped down the circular staircase. Joyce turned at the clamour, a slick grin in her eyes. “Halud?”

  He nodded at her as he walked by.

  “Very stressful news for the First Speaker, it seems.” She smiled sweetly.

  Halud had no time, no interest in distraction. He had to do this now while there was still the fire within him. He carried on, as fast as decorum would allow, through the halls and out of the complex. He broke out into the centre square. For the first time, he dared to walk right up to the carved circle, the one that had caught his eye from its surreptitious location etched high on one of the surrounding buildings, where only someone looking would see it. The two parallel lines pointed to an alleyway.

  Heart racing, he went to the alley, pushing through the crowds. There, another circle, carved into the stone. Tiny and low on the wall, looking like nothing more than shadow to the casual observer. He ran to it, following the clues to another circle, and another and another. He arrived, panting, at a door with an almost imperceptible circle carved into in the bottom corner.

  There was no answer to his simple knock. Instead he twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Down a dark staircase and into a hidden lair. He entered the room and suddenly bodies were everywhere, moving, rapidly aiming laz-rifles at him.

  Rebels.

  He took a deep breath. “My name is Halud DeGazo, Poet Laureate of the Gods. I have information for you. The tyranny of the Speaker’s must be stopped.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  SARRIN STEPPED CAUTIOUSLY INTO THE bright room. Kieran had lain in the hypobaric chamber, unmoving, for three days, but now he was awake, and he wanted to see her.

  Machines let out loud beeps, both irritating and comforting at the same time. Her eyes landed first on Hoepe, sitting in the corner. Across the room, Leove worked at a computer console.

  She took in the high tech hospital, cataloguing quickly the array of medical instruments she couldn’t put a name to if she tried. Finally, her eyes fell on the single occupied bed.

  Kieran sat up, looking at something in his hands. He turned his head a fraction, wincing. He covered it with a laugh.

  She didn’t notice the movements it took to get her across the room. He reached a hand out, and she took it willingly, before she had a chance to think about it.

  A smile spread on his face, despite the burns. The touch started to tingle with intensity — a hum coming from her bones — and they both let go.

  “Doc says I’m gonna live,” he said, his voice strained and scratchy. “But I’m no genetically enhanced super human, so it’s gonna take a while.”

  How was it that his smile never faded?

  “Might be a few weeks before I’m up and about again. I guess I’ll have a few scars, same as everybody else on this rock.” He glanced up. “Sorry, Cordelia.”

  The planet-woman appeared. She smiled graciously and waved it off with something suspiciously like a giggle.

  Kieran’s voice turned serious, as he turned back to Sarrin. “I hear I’ve got you to thank for my life.”

  She looked away, but he reached for her again. His fingers wrapped around her arm, where she felt both the hot press of his hand and the zing of energy that passed through them.

  “Thank you, Sarrin.” He squeezed once, and pulled away, too soon. “I have some good news for you.” He lifte
d up a sleek tablet that she hadn’t noticed siting in his lap, as though she hadn’t already heard the best news he could possibly provide. “Before… everything”— his eyes dropped just a little, the corners tight with pain — “Cordelia made something like what we use at home for our research. I’ve been feeling well enough to go through the data from the last few days.” He handed her the tablet. “Here.”

  A vid was queued and she pressed the stylized play symbol. Halud appeared, as he did during the war, interviewing what looked like a doctor. He finished with a sermon about the power of the Gods. “Old footage,” she said, handing the tablet back.

  He shook his head, his entire face lighting up despite the stretching, shiny new skin. “No, keep watching.”

  She took the tablet back, staring at it intensely.

  “There,” said Kieran, suddenly reaching out and pausing the scene. “See it?”

  “Gods,” she gasped. The camera angle shifted, the new camera zooming in. And in that second before he turned his gaze to follow his audience, his right side was highlighted. On the temple was a scar. A scar she recognized. A scar he earned falling, hitting his head, as an old freightship launched from Selousa amidst a torrent of laz-cannon fire. From the day he rescued her. Her hand flew to her mouth. “He’s alive.”

  Kieran gripped her arm again, squeezing. “And he’s on Etar. Cordelia can take us there.”

  She gripped him back. Her eyes stayed stuck to the tablet and it’s slightly blurry frozen image.

  Halud was alive. He was on Etar. They were going to get him back.

  * * *

  Galiant Idim stood stiffly on the pristine white floor, surrounded by glowing white consoles. The new ‘starship’ was sleek, fast, and incredibly high tech.

  A gentle buzz shook in his ear. “Yes,” he answered.

  “Everything looks green down here, Cap’n. Cordelia says she’s ready.”

  Gal shook his head. For all the time he’d spent trying to keep them away from Cordelia, here she was posing as a starship for them. Complete with a super-charged FTL drive.

  Beside him, Cordelia smiled knowingly. She’d donned some type of white uniform, with brightly-coloured circles splashed over the entirety of her person.

  “What are you wearing?” he said.

  Her smiled broadened. “You need more colour in your life, Gal.”

  He sighed. “Thanks for doing this.”

  She shrugged. “If this works, I can use this type of travel to reach my home.”

  That was the deal they had made. Show her how to travel, if she helped them get to Etar. Not that he wanted to be anywhere near Etar. “Still, thank you.”

  She flushed gently. “This is going to be fun. I’ve never been on a journey with so many people.”

  They were headed for the heart of it, to the centre of the Central Army’s empire.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” she asked. “Will anyone tell?”

  He felt the weight across his heart, the importance of his promise to her. “No, Cordelia. Not this time. And if they do, you’ll be long gone.”

  She squealed with glee. “Oh, that’s right!” Then she shuddered, as though she were cold. “I just hope nobody thinks to put a bomb on me.”

  Gal swallowed hard.

  No one had said anything. There was no telling how much they knew, if anything. It was all so hectic. But Rayne knew. He glanced over to where she studied her console intently. He hadn’t meant to. Didn’t know what he was doing. But still he had hurt her. The one person he thought he would never hurt was the one he hurt the most.

  A voice whispered in his ear, “They’re going to find out sooner or later, Gal.” Aaron. “At least you can’t wire a bomb into this ship.”

  He faced his eyes front. The hallucinations still haunted him. Demons sat quietly across the back of the starship’s bridge.

  “What will they do when they find out, I wonder.”

  Go away, he told the voice.

  “What will they say?”

  Just a hallucination. Remnants from the addiction.

  “They’ll find out it was you.”

  He stared hard at the view screen.

  “And you wrote the letters. And you started the war. And everything that’s ever come to pass is your fault.”

  “Gal, are you okay?” asked Cordelia.

  He took a stilted breath. “Yes.” He forced a smile. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, her eyes bright. “Setting a course for Etar.”

  The Story Continues….

  Human by C R MacFarlane

  Red Fever Book 3

  Coming November 2018

  Pre-Order available on Amazon

  About the Author…

  C R MacFarlane is an award winning author of short stories and poetry. Fascinated by the human experience, her fiction strives to explore deep and meaningful themes in exciting ways. She lives in Alberta with her ever-patient husband, three cats, dog, and horse.

  Augment is her debut novel.

  More of her work can be found at

  www.thewritable.com

  @CRMacFarlane

  CRMacFarlane