The Topaz Operation

by Jared Sizemore

  * * *

  Upon dismissal from Aqtal’s presence, Jez rushed back to his cave on Samdu. He scribbled characters—now numbered in the thousands—across the cave wall.

  He meditated. This is the only way. What I’m doing is ultimately good.

  He checked his weapons. Shoulder-mounted sound splicer in good working order. Chest blast deflectors in excellent shape. All systems go.

  Jez considered warning the residents of Topaz. Different scenarios swirled through his head. No. It’s too risky. He might find out. This is my last chance to go through the cavern and absolutely nothing must stand in the way.

  * * *

  Aqtal summoned Zermal to a private meeting in his throne room.

  “I was curious what noble role you have planned for me,” Zermal said with a snicker.

  “You, my old friend, will ride the wave of destruction and ensuing confusion surrounding Topaz and will lead my fleet back to Onyx to reclaim it.”

  “Sounds exhilarating,” said Zermal. “It’s about time you gave me a new fleet.”

  “I am merely lending it.”

  “Of course, Lord Aqtal,” said Zermal, clearing his throat with a scraping, metallic noise. “Now, one more thing, if you will indulge me. On Onyx, another of those Lights of Zoain has been relit. I managed to escape with its rays licking my heels. What of—”

  “Do not concern yourself with the Lights,” Aqtal cut over him. “When I rule over that world again, I will deal with the Light. I am working to ensure the elimination of Onyx’s next generation so there will be no one of significance remaining to benefit from it.”

  Zermal bowed. “Yes, Lord. Whatever you wish. Do you think young Gelibor is up to the task you’ve given him?”

  “He considers himself my son now. He would not disobey. Sons sometimes disappoint their fathers, but at the end of the day they make the right decision.” A compartment opened on Aqtal’s throne and he lifted out of it an electronic notepad with an attached wrist strap. He held it up for Zermal to see.

  “I don’t recognize that, Lord. Should I?”

  “This was the personal journal of Jez Gelibor, which he carelessly let fall into my hands during his original mission here. It contains his thoughts, hopes, dreams, and fears…the perfect ingredients with which to mold him as I wished.”

  “How interesting.” Zermal adjusted his spectacles.

  “He was such an easy creature to ensnare. He felt like a weakling and a failure his entire life, and he was right. I offered him a new life, extraordinary power beyond his wildest dreams, and a chance to finally find his identity. He found it.”

  “You’re speaking of him in past tense. Are you planning something else I’m not privy to?”

  Aqtal’s eyes glittered. “You know me, Doctor. I don’t throw away my greatest assets...unless they deserve it. The old Jez will be dead soon and replaced with the new. He will be alive but will be my permanent servant. But since you inquired, there is an aspect of the operation of which Jez is not aware. If he knew, it might affect his willingness to cooperate.”

  “Do tell.”

  A hologram appeared above them depicting Topaz.

  “When Topaz is ripped apart, it will break into two clean planetary pieces,” said Aqtal.

  The hologram showed a representation of Topaz’s core being shredded and exploding. The ripple effect created a crack which ran north and south through the entire planet. Two huge chunks of planet broke apart with several smaller chunks breaking off as well.

  “Because of the unusually close nature of Chrysolite’s orbit, the smaller of the two halves will drift directly into Chrysolite’s path,” said Aqtal.

  The hologram zoomed out to reveal Chrysolite approaching along its orbital path on a direct collision course with the chunk from Topaz.

  Zermal, not easily alarmed, felt his mouth gaping open and his eyes widening. “Astonishing,” he whispered. “It must be meant to be.”

  “I trust you, Togh, to keep this detail between us?”

  “May I suffer the pain of death should I tell anyone, my Lord,” said Zermal as he bowed one last time.

  Chapter 42

  Mitchett opened his eyes. A moon directly above in the night sky reflected faint red light. Topaz’s moon. Guess I’m still here. This was getting old—waking up in new rooms in terrible pain, aches, and confusion. If one could call this a room; it was more of a bombed-out block of concrete. The “room” had four twelve-foot-high walls, no door, and no ceiling. Flat on his back, Mitchett moaned and rolled over onto his side. He rubbed a throbbing knot on his head. Oh right, I just got thrown through a wall. Almost forgot.

  There were a few cracks in the wall high above to his right. Curiously, to his left was a blown-out window with fallen concrete blocks leading up to it, forming a makeshift staircase. Do they want me to escape? With no other options, Mitchett stepped on the first block. It felt secure. He walked up the blocks to the window. Whoa–a two-hundred-foot drop down onto sheer rock. He stood there and relished the cool wind blowing through.

  Deathblood—they wanted to see if he would test it himself. They didn’t have the guts to do it themselves. If he jumped, the place on which he would splat would do minimal damage to Archon equipment. But it would be enough for that purple freak to find out the truth. A weird test. Why wouldn’t they just kill him? Were they really that afraid? Heedin certainly wouldn’t care about wizarding drivel unless he was kissing up to Aqtal about it.

  Mitchett stared out at the view—dusty desert, mountains, a ship or two flying in the distance. He sighed. Jyssa? Was she dead? She had dumped him for her career. What a joke. Her career was more valuable than him? She’s only nineteen! The purple one was right about Mitchett’s mom. She never cared for him. She drove Dad away.

  He strained to see around the outside edge of the building. Over there, that looks like the side of an Arch base. I bet the Deathblood would shut that down. There has to be platoons of troops right around here too. How else did I get here? If Turj gets the signal, he’ll have a better idea where to strike.

  Perhaps this was the best way. He wasn’t getting out of here. The fleet was beaten back. He hadn’t seen or heard a whiff of any Chrysolite ship since he’d been here. His guys were probably dead. They couldn’t have survived that Gak attack. If he jumped, this would really stick it to the Archon. If he didn’t, despite all his efforts at resisting interrogation, who knows what horrors Aqtal would cook up to get him to talk? This was the best thing under the circumstances. Going out on his terms. It would at least get rid of this never-ending headache.

  He put his right foot on the outer edge of the window. Wind blew in his hair. He calculated how to angle his body to land closer to that base in the distance. He had experience falling, but this time there was definitely no place to land safely. He put his other foot on the edge.

  * * *

  Brayden huddled next to his sister in the ruins of a blown-out building as they waited for their terrifying captor. Myriad holes littered the walls of their room. Arlo sat close, though he was hesitant to touch Malaiya since she was a girl and all. Arlo pulled out of his pocket his glittering diamond.

  “Put that away, you idiot! They’ll definitely kill you if they see that,” said Malaiya. “They’ll kill us all.” She reached for the diamond, but Arlo shoved it back into his pocket.

  At least he tried to put it back. The diamond pulled out of his hands, slicing his palm. “Ouch!” He covered his hand, now bleeding. The three of them gawked as the diamond floated to the center of the room by itself. The metal door slid open with a screech and the purple wizard entered.

  “Where did you get this?” asked Farash.

  “I found it,” said Arlo.

  “You were hiding it from the Archon, were you not?”

  Arlo, now shaking with fear, hesitated. “Uh, not really. I just found it.” He kept pressure on his still bleeding hand.

  Malaiya spoke up. “What do you want with us? We’re already your
slaves. We’re just kids.”

  Farash didn’t respond. The diamond floated up to his eye level. It glowed with a warm light emanating from within. He stared at it without a word.

  Brayden whispered to Malaiya, “What’s he doing?”

  “Shhh.”

  The diamond rotated in place, reflecting sparse light around the room while creating new light. Farash, utterly focused, seemed to be in tune with the gem.

  * * *

  A glint of light caught Mitchett’s eye. He looked behind him. Through the cracks on the wall on the far side of his latest cell, something shined and glittered in the distance. He squinted. It wasn’t too far away. Damned if that’s not a diamond. One of the things Aqtal’s been searching for. Its light was the most striking sight in days. Mitchett slid down to a seated position in the window. They can’t get rid of me that easy.

  * * *

  Farash exited with the diamond stashed in a chest pocket in his robes, the gem’s glow still noticeable.

  General Heedin confronted him. “Are you finished with them yet?”

  “They’re all yours, General.”

  Heedin noticed Farash’s glowing pocket and pointed at it with his metal rod. “What is that? A diamond? The one the little piece of rabble found?”

  “Obviously.”

  Heedin let out a disgruntled sigh. “We’ve been over this, Farash. It’s my job to deliver all found items to Amethyst. My job.”

  “I report to Aqtal, not to you.”

  Heedin raised his eyebrows as if offended but Farash clearly didn’t care. Heedin’s emergency comm flashed red and vibrated. “What. Huh?” Pause. “Okay. Okay then.” He closed the comm. “Well, my wizard comrade, you can take your diamond directly to Aqtal yourself. Starting now.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  “Per executive order from the Supreme Archon, we’re evacuating the planet except for civilians. Leave them. Leave them! If you don’t believe me, call Aqtal.” Heedin marched off in a huff.

  Farash was genuinely surprised. Evacuation?

  Chapter 43

  Prys stormed out of the Scorpion Base, agitated at the lack of diplomatic progress between the factions. The Scorpion Base was an agreed upon neutral location for the parties to meet because of its location outside Kudra and its status as a common source of torment for people from both the Sardonyx and Black Onyx. The “negotiations” had been dragging on too long and Prys finally lost it.

  “Prys!” said Edward, exiting the meeting room after her.

  “This is ridiculous. After decades of Archon oppression, these fools are going to throw away our chance for a real life again.”

  “I knew they wouldn’t get anywhere soon.”

  “Aph’s people are good but not good enough. The Sardonyx are ready to go to war against their own people. I mean, did you hear Rusthill in there?”

  “Yes, I heard him,” said Edward.

  Prys puffed out her chest mocking Rusthill. “‘I declare we will destroy you if we have to in order to acquire those fuel cells you’re hoarding!’”

  Edward kicked a red scorpion away from his feet. “The Rundar province occupation has angered the Black Onyx for as long as I can remember, and the Sardonyx have been pretty stubborn about giving it up. That roadblock is going to weigh things down.”

  “Can’t they just figure it out now so we can get our world in order and get our children back?” Prys shook her head. “That General Forsythe is such a windbag. ‘No one leaves the planet until you hand over what is rightfully ours.’”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want my kids to still have a mother when they get back.”

  Prys calmed a bit, realizing Edward may have a point. The tension around the military bunkers had risen to the point where trigger fingers were jumpy. Edward’s attention turned toward a set of three starships resting nearby on dirt landing pads.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked.

  “Prys, we have a chance to go get them.”

  She knew what he meant but wouldn’t allow her heart to nurse hope. It felt premature and risky to just jump on a ship and go after their children—which she had considered doing many times—but sitting here on Onyx with these obstinate so-called diplomats wasn’t desirable either. “There’s no fuel cells. They’re all in Black Onyx territory. We’ll never make it off the planet.”

  Edward pulled Prys close and whispered into her ear. “What they said in there wasn’t completely true. One of my contacts has fully charged cells on the west coast. All we have to do is make the hour trip by freighter and meet him tonight.”

  Prys looked over at the ships, especially noticing the Class-2 Onyx Convoy Freighter.

  Edward smiled. “My wife thinks like me. I had the Convoy Freighter in mind too. I guarantee there’s enough fuel in that thing to get us to the coast.”

  “They’re Black Onyx-owned.”

  “Shouldn’t matter.”

  “What, are we just taking it?”

  “We’ll ask for forgiveness later.”

  Prys responded with a staid, unemotional look that only a spouse would affirm as whole-hearted agreement.

  “Let’s go.” Edward walked toward the ship.

  “Now?”

  “You having too much fun here?”

  “Definitely not.” She followed him.

  They stopped to let a squad of Black Onyx troops pass by. “Awesome job, men! For Onyx! For Rundar!” Edward shouted, clapping his hands. A couple of them waved in a gesture of thanks. After they passed, Edward picked up his pace toward the ship and Prys jogged to keep up.

  “Isn’t there a battle raging over Topaz?” she asked.

  “Are you afraid now?”

  She halted twenty feet from the ship.

  Edward stopped, came back to her, and gently caressed her face. “For Malaiya and Brayden.”

  She nodded. Edward glanced around, making sure no one was watching. Just as he was about to make his move, Tevin Montok appeared running toward them.

  “Edward, Prys, there you are! Where’ve you been?”

  “Avoiding your pointless diplomacy meetings,” said Prys.

  Tevin stopped and caught his breath. “Prys, I know it looks bleak at the moment, but these things take time. Especially with the history here—”

  “We’re leaving, Tevin,” said Edward.

  “Leaving?”

  “We’re getting our children back,” said Prys.

  Extra wrinkles appeared on Tevin’s bald head. “Oh, that’s not a good idea.”

  “Well, we seem to be out of good ideas,” said Prys.

  “Let me make some calls,” said Tevin.

  “You do whatever you want. Just don’t mention this,” said Edward, motioning to the freighter he was about to abscond with.

  Tevin pointed a finger, preparing to elaborate, but withheld. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tevin trudged back toward the base.

  Edward checked over the freighter again. “Just follow me.” They walked up to the ship and approached the side door. Edward knocked. After a few seconds, the door opened and a black-armored Black Onyx pilot emerged.

  “What is it?” said the pilot.

  “We’re here to do the repairs,” said Edward.

  “What repairs?”

  “Your rear engine coil is a mess. Go check it out,” said Edward.

  “Bloody coils!” said the pilot as he ducked out the door and headed for the back of the ship.

  Edward and Prys jumped onboard and shut the door. Edward twisted the emergency lock over the door and leapt to the control station. He punched in the launch protocol and the ship’s boosters roared to life, lifting the freighter up off the ground.

  Prys activated the tactical screen which immediately flashed red—an enemy unit? “Ed, Ed! What is that?”

  Edward’s eyes went wide. “Get down! Let me try to—”

  Before he finished his sentence, two plasma
cannon blasts from a Black Onyx Hovertank nicked the freighter’s launch boosters, sending the ship spinning 360 degrees and slamming into the dirt.

  After a few indeterminable minutes, Prys gathered her wits and opened her eyes. She coughed and squirmed against the heavy lump sprawled on top of her—her husband. She shook Edward. “Hey, are you okay?”

  He opened his eyes, moaning. “Pretty peeved but yeah.”

  With sparks and blaster fire, the ship’s side door was ripped off its hinges by troops. A black-uniformed officer—General Forsythe—stomped onto the ship. “Throw ‘em in holding for a while.” Forsythe kneeled and made eye contact with Prys. “No one leaves the planet.”

  Chapter 44

  Jyssa and Tara crept past rows of plain buildings on the north edge of the military base. They used hedgerows for cover when possible though encountered few enemy troops. Tara’s stolen attire—a six-foot-eight Archon soldier’s uniform—helped keep them unnoticed, but she kept hunching over because of her height. They reached a sealed door with no way around it.

  Jyssa whispered into her comm. “You got this one too?”

  “Hold on,” said Lygalia. “Got it.”

  The doors parted revealing a clear path into the center of the compound. Jyssa and Tara, watching for guards above, moved in and took cover behind a digging crane. “Lygalia said prisoners are in the northeastern section, right?”

  “Affirmative,” said Tara.

  As Jyssa visually surveyed the area, several lights around the facility blinked orange, and a low siren wailed intermittently. “Oh no!” She instinctively hit the ground. “They discovered us!”

  Tara poked her head up for a look.

  “Get down!” said Jyssa.

  “I believe you’re incorrect, Sergeant.”