The Topaz Operation

by Jared Sizemore

  Zermal circled the pillar, examining it, touching various parts. “There appear to be missing portions. You were hoping to have them all by now, correct?”

  “Correct. Jez Gelibor should be on his way, is he not?”

  “Uh, yes, Lord. After I saw him last, he sped away. He should arrive anytime. I’m surprised he’s not here already.”

  “How is your work with him progressing?”

  “Very well,” said Zermal.

  Nawrosh approached. “I hope, Doctor, that you are strengthening young Gelibor for our cause, not making him weaker as you have become.”

  Aqtal tolerated this type of banter. He didn’t want his minions getting along too well.

  Zermal twisted his short body toward Nawrosh, adjusted his eye spectacles, and glared at the dark wizard. “He is a gifted young man, more than most know. I’m certain Lord Aqtal will be pleased.”

  “I do hope so, Master.” Nawrosh bowed to Aqtal.

  Chapter 26

  His ship on autopilot, Rez closed his eyes and attempted to sing one more time. He cracked open his mouth a smidge and a deep hum emerged. Pain shot to his ear again. He winced and ceased his song. Another failure, yet progress was being made. In order to reach Jez before he fell completely under Aqtal’s spell, Rez knew he must progress faster. Rez doubted Jez had the willpower to turn back once ensnared. Rez had managed to escape Aqtal but not by the most desirable means—being laid on the altar of sacrifice against his will and then rescued at the last minute by his father.

  Why, Jez, why you? The question kept turning in Rez’s head. On the one hand, Rez was not surprised at anyone falling into Aqtal’s snare. However, his younger brother making the move toward Aqtal was perplexing. Jez was the weakest sibling, arguably weaker than Jyssa, at least in temperament. He was the least accomplished in the military which always put a bit of a chip on Jez’s shoulder. Perhaps Jez simply wanted more power, more influence, more...identity?

  Identity… Rez was pulled back briefly to his time under Aqtal, when he himself tempted Jez to follow them. He had used Jez’s insecurities against him. Rez shook his head, shame creeping in at how he treated his own family. He switched his thoughts back to the immediate task—ascertaining Jez’s current situation.

  The conundrum lay here: Why serve Aqtal directly, even actively against Chrysolite? Did Jez want to become a dark wizard? Jez had no musical talent whatsoever. If one was evil-hearted enough, much musical ability was not required. But Jez did not fit that description either. He was the least trouble-making of the family. Rez believed Jez always envied Ryle’s status as the eldest and “most successful,” though Ryle would dispute that description and perhaps even flip it upside down.

  Generally speaking, each Qesem knew first how to make genuine music. They then mastered the art of twisting it, distorting it, bending it into chaos. The results were powerful, disturbing, and deadly. It held quite an appeal for many. For Rez, this appeal had finally begun to wear off. The path he had followed for the past three years—partly in secret—had revealed itself more plainly over the past six months. It hardened your body but tore your soul. It brought momentary power but lasting brokenness.

  His attempts to sing in harmony had met with painful fits and starts, his severed ear hindering his attempts. Being in tune with the true music, the music of harmony, was a way to reach into reality and learn things, even feel the presence of others. But Rez was not yet ready for this level. For the moment, Rez was forced to resort to a traditional means of obtaining info.

  His ship approached RadStation Four, a major Archon checkpoint on the edge of the radiation field. A sprawling complex, the station’s arms of activity protruded in four directions containing landing bays, refueling stations, research labs, and radiation converting coils. Archon scientists worked on converting radiation into deflector shield technology and specialized fuel. Most ships passing this way also stopped for standard refueling and for brief bouts of leisure. Pilots’ tongues tended to loosen out here away from Amethyst which would have irritated the old Rez but should work to his advantage now.

  As long as she still worked there. There was no reason she wouldn’t. Teela had served drinks to pilots for the past twenty years. She liked being in the know and was always useful to Rez in the past for keeping tabs on happenings around the Archon’s domain.

  Since Rez was banned from Archon access, he relied on freighter-class passcodes to get past the outer checkpoint into the station. Rez landed his ship in a dark corner of Bay Seven. He slid out of the cockpit onto the metal floor. After studying the area, he quietly stole another pilot’s hanging black jacket and helmet and headed upstairs to the most important place—the bar.

  The dimly lit, dingy, drinking hole looked the same as last time he saw it: about a dozen or so pilots, soldiers, and a few females scattered around the bar and at tables. But this time, the atmosphere, the feel of the place, was different, as if morale was low among the clientele. The normal holographic system map which glowed from the ceiling was not functioning, leaving the ceiling strangely bare except for a couple of bland flood lights.

  Rez, wearing the helmet, inched toward the bar. Six pilots sitting there blocked a clear view. Her pink-colored head popped up from behind the bar and she poured six drinks at once. Two in each hand—her third arm a cybernetic enhancement she volunteered for in order to do exactly this. She worked faster and earned more tips this way.

  The six pilots all took a swig at once. One of them near the middle, a bald veteran pilot, said, “You gettin’ off soon, Teela?”

  “Yep. I’ve had enough of you louses for one night.”

  Good. I won’t have to wait all night for these louses to leave. Rez needed privacy to speak, and the bar wouldn’t do.

  Teela ripped off her apron, tossed it to the bald pilot, and headed to the back of the bar.

  I hope her roommate’s gone.

  * * *

  Teela entered her apartment, just above the bar, and flicked on the light. She shrieked in fright at the sight of a helmeted pilot standing in her room that she dropped a glass onto the floor, shattering it to pieces. “What do you want?”

  “Relax, Teela.”

  “If you’re here because of Wernvor, I paid that.”

  Rez took off his helmet.

  Teela let out a relieved sigh. “Rez? I thought your voice sounded familiar. What in the name of Sarkos are you doing here? You’re gonna get me in worse trouble!” She fell onto her plush couch.

  “I’ll be out of here as fast as I can. I just need info.”

  “Yeah, you and everybody else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Word on the street is that Willdon has a big new project. I don’t know what it is, though! Everybody thinks I’m his right-hand woman or somethin’. And I heard you’re not exactly in his graces anymore.”

  Rez sat on the couch, keeping a little distance so as to not make her more uncomfortable. She knew more than she let on. She’s so busy working that lots of info she hears goes into her brain and she forgets to recall it, unless prodded appropriately. “I can tell you’ve worked long hours. You’re probably exhausted.”

  “You got that right.” She glanced over at the broken glass on the floor. “Ugh, who’s gonna clean that up? I’m done for the day.” She cracked a slight grin. “Want a drink, Rez?” She started to get up, but Rez motioned her to stay.

  “No, let’s just talk a little. What kind of project is Aqtal up to?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know. I just know it’s big.”

  “All of his projects are big, aren’t they?”

  “Pretty much. At least the ones I hear about.”

  “What have the pilots been saying? Anything is useful, Tee.”

  She leaned back against a thick fluffy pillow while her third arm wiped pink hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know. Lots more digging, as usual.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Of course, he’s always diggin’ for stuff. Um...but the
re’s a lot of guys shipping stuff back to Amethyst and they don’t even know what they’re shipping. Higher-ups won’t tell ‘em what’s in the shipment. Weird.”

  Makes sense if it’s diamonds. Rez decided it best if she didn’t know that—if she truly didn’t. “Interesting. Anything else?”

  “Are you fishin’ for something specific? Just tell me, Rez.”

  “You can read me like a book, Tee.”

  She smiled and scooted across the couch closer to him.

  “Have you heard anything about my brother?” asked Rez.

  “Ryle? Only that Willdon was pretty rankled about what happened on the mountain.”

  “No, not Ryle. My younger brother, Jez.”

  “Jez?” She crossed her legs. “Now that I think about it, I’ve heard rumblings about somebody bein’ in charge of the shipments, but they never said a name. The guys I talked to were all iffy about it, like it was somebody new.”

  “Zermal, perhaps?”

  “Maybe, but I know other people keeping tabs on Zerm. This dude is different. Could be your little bro.”

  “Did they say where? What planet?”

  “You know, on a typical day I hear the names of all the planets, so they get a bit jumbled.”

  “Okay. Just think about it.”

  Teela reached behind the couch, grabbed a mini-bottle of some aqua-colored drink and popped it open. “I just heard something today about...Beryl. No, no! Jacinth. That’s it. A big job going on there, and the guy in charge was gonna be there.”

  “Jacinth. Perfect, Tee. Thank you,” Rez leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

  “You wanna hang around for a bit? Get that drink?” The fingers of her third hand walked up Rez’s thigh.

  “It’s not a good idea but thanks,” said Rez as he stood. “If you got caught with me you’d be executed on sight.”

  “It’d be worth it.”

  * * *

  Rez returned to Hangar Bay Seven and, not surprisingly, a security sentry was poking around the outside of his ship. “Ah, I’m so glad you’re here!” said Rez with gusto.

  The sentry spun around. “Where’s the registration for this?”

  “The front landing gear broke and my comm got busted. Look over here.” Rez led the guard to the ship’s front exterior, in a dark corner of the hangar, and kneeled.

  The sentry kneeled beside him and did not expect the knife driven into his throat. Rez covered the guard’s mouth, eased him to the floor, and withdrew the knife. He took the guard’s pistol-blaster and rolled a nearby tarp over the body.

  Rez boarded the ship, fired up the engines, and blasted out of the hangar. He punched in coordinates for Jacinth.

  Chapter 27

  Ryle made all the preparations for the Arrow’s take off, rechecked them, and fought the urge to take off by himself. Aphiemi’s work here was significant, but his itch to leave needed to be scratched. He also wanted to consult more with Qusam, but the old wizard kept disappearing.

  Ryle went searching for Aphiemi among the tents and found her with Prys and Edward, both standing upright and looking much healthier. Color had returned to their faces and they were taking bites out of pears, the only local fruit worth eating. Also present were representatives from the Sardonyx and Black Onyx. Aphiemi’s assistants Tevin and Elissa had arrived from Chrysolite to aid in the diplomacy.

  Aphiemi introduced Ryle, “This is—”

  “Colonel Ryle Gelibor,” the red-armored Sardonyx officer said. “We know who you are, and we are grateful.” The officer’s appearance, aside from his greyish beard, suggested a man who refused transports and marched on foot into every battle. He reached out his hand and crushed Ryle’s in an extremely firm handshake.

  “I wish I could say I had this all planned, but I didn’t,” said Ryle.

  “Ryle, this is Field Marshall Rusthill of the Sardonyx,” said Aphiemi. “We were just discussing paths of moving forward between them and the Black Onyx.” She motioned to the group of black-armored officers. “And this is General Forsythe.”

  More stand-offish, Forsythe merely nodded and said, “Work still lies ahead. But perhaps my grandchildren can experience a better world.”

  “Edward and I will help in this process,” said Prys. “We are familiar with both factions. We have contacts on both sides.”

  “Thank you, but—” started Aphiemi.

  “You can go if you need to, Aph. As a native, I can tell things here have already changed for the better,” said Prys.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” said Aphiemi.

  “When our children come home, we need to make sure they have a good home to come back to,” said Prys.

  “Tevin and Elissa will stay here with you. They can speak for me.”

  “Aphiemi,” said Edward. “Is there no rescue attempt for our children?”

  Aphiemi looked to Ryle.

  “Well,” said Ryle as he cleared his throat. “As of yet, our fleet has been unable to crack the Archon shell around Topaz. They now have powerful shields blocking us. But I guarantee we’re not giving up.”

  Edward nodded with an expression of helpless acceptance. Prys took his arm and leaned into him. Ryle considered mentioning Jyssa’s planned mission to Topaz but decided the more secret that mission was the better, and he had also advised Aphiemi to keep a lid on it. They didn’t even know for certain yet that the children were taken to Topaz.

  “Aph, I know you have important other matters to attend to,” said Prys with a quick glance in Ryle’s direction. Ryle raised one eyebrow but stayed quiet, not totally sure what Prys was referring to. “May your journey go smoothly, my Chrysolite cousin.”

  “Thank you,” said Aphiemi as she squeezed Prys in a final hug, and then Edward. Before walking away, Aphiemi stopped and admired the gathered group of would-be diplomats. “Good luck to you all.” She remained standing as if she couldn’t drag herself away from them.

  Ryle watched his beautiful lady friend struggle with her decision to leave. He could tell she was torn but couldn’t argue with her either. He waited for her to look at him, which she finally did. “Ready?” he asked kindly.

  “Ready,” she said.

  Qusam popped up from seemingly nowhere.

  “You’re back,” said Ryle.

  “I was meditating on good things and those of the disturbing variety.”

  “You can continue on the ship because it’s taking off in five.”

  * * *

  The Arrow IV blasted out of Onyx orbit.

  “Roger that, Bao. Take care of him, all right?” said Ryle, piloting the ship. Aphiemi occupied the co-pilot’s seat next to Ryle.

  “Will do. You have my ILT frequency, right?” said Bao.

  “Affirmative.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll use it, too. Hixman out.”

  Ryle shut off the comm, edging the ship into stealth mode. “Peex is pretty banged up, too much for the tent doctors. Bao and Rik are taking him back to Chrysolite. Turj’ll be glad at least part of my team is obeying orders.”

  Aphiemi smiled nervously. “That’s good, I guess.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess we should talk.”

  “Sure.”

  “So, how’ve you been?”

  “Busy.”

  “Yeah, me too. Been crazy in Dujama even besides all this stuff.”

  “Yeah,” said Ryle, focusing on the instruments. He hadn’t flown this type of ship by himself in a while. He searched the right side of the dash for the peychtat-to-fuel meter, typically measured right after takeoffs.

  “I think the peychtat meter is there,” she pointed to a tiny indicator screen.

  Aghast, Ryle ignored the meter and stared at Aph, speechless.

  “I used to fly when I was younger. Before...my parents were killed.”

  “You flew? You never told me that about yourself. I’m a little hurt, Aph.”

  She smirked at his sarcasm. “Guess it never came up. I’ve haven’t piloted since I was se
venteen. Always use bots or autopilot. And you never offered to let me fly while on any of our dates.”

  “Well, since our crew here is sparse, you may get your chance.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. I’m terrible at it now.”

  Ryle checked the peychtat meter, letting the subject of Aphiemi’s piloting prowess pass for now. “So, why did you want to come again?”

  Aphiemi looked out at the stars, avoiding the question, and brushed her long hair back over her right ear. “I...I missed you.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Ryle?” she said, irritated.

  “Sorry. I’m not very romantic while on mission. I missed you too, but—”

  “Because I have a diamond around my neck that you gave me that the dark lord may want to use to bring death and destruction to our people. So, if I marry you, I want to make sure our union isn’t cursed from the outset.”

  “Makes sense. What do you mean, ‘if you marry me’?”

  She let out a disgruntled sigh.

  The cockpit door opened and Qusam entered. He sat right behind them. “So, how are my friends doing?”

  They remained silent.

  “Oh, I apologize. Did I interrupt? I’ll go back to the cargo hold,” said Qusam.

  “No, it’s okay. Please stay,” said Aphiemi.

  Ryle punched in coordinates to Carnelian but held off the final confirm button. He held his finger over it. “Carnelian, correct?”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Qusam.

  Ryle’s finger fell on the confirm button. The ship hummed into automatic mode and blasted forward at increased speed. “You’re not just going for the tea, are you?”

  “I wish I were,” said Qusam. “But we will visit someone dear to me.”

  “Who would that be?” asked Ryle.

  “Sienna the Wizardess.”

  “I hope she’s one of the good ones. On an Archon planet?” asked Ryle.