Tarizon, The Liberator, Tarizon Trilogy Vol 1

by William Manchee

19

  Assassination

  The night before their day of reckoning, Peter was summoned to Sgt. Baig's quarters. When he got there the sergeant told him to take a seat at a small work table. He was a little scared being summoned to his quarters as that usually meant he was in trouble. Racking his brain, however, he couldn't imagine what it was that he had done wrong. Sgt. Baig sat across from him and dropped a yellow envelope on the table. It had an urgent look and a fancy seal. Sgt. Baig looked at Peter warily and then pushed it toward him.

  "This came for you, although I can't imagine why Councillor Garcia would have any interest in you."

  Peter shrugged, not knowing how to respond. Sgt. Baig motioned for Peter to open it, so he did.

  "It says confidential so I won't ask you to read it aloud, but if you want to keep it confidential, I'd suggest you burn it once you've read it. Otherwise, it's content will soon be discovered. Several people know it has been delivered and I'm sure they are wondering about it. Councillor Garcia has many enemies here at Argot. Fortunately for you, I'm not one of them."

  Peter swallowed hard and opened the envelope. There was a single handwritten page. He recognized Lorin's handwriting.

 

  L.L.,

 

  It was risky sending you this letter, but we felt it was necessary under the circumstances. Something terrible has happened. The Councillor's intern has been murdered. He was stabbed at close range by an assassin. You can figure out the significance of this malicious deed.

 

  Although we mourn the loss of our friend this may actually work in our favor if people think you are dead. But, in the interest of caution, you must be alert. There are those who are not so easily fooled.

 

  The man who gave you this letter is a friend. If you get in trouble, you can turn to him for help.

 

  Sandee be with you!

 

  L.G.

 

  The sergeant said, "So, take your letter and burn it. Speak to no one about it, if you know what's good for you."

  "Yes, sergeant," Peter said getting up. He turned and left the office. On the way back to the barracks Peter slipped into the men's room, tore the letter into little pieces and flushed it down the toilet."

  When he got back to his bunk his friends were waiting anxiously. "So, tell us. What did the sergeant want?" Tam asked.

  "To wish me good luck tomorrow."

  "Yeah, right," Tam said.

  Peter motioned for them to lean in close so he could talk confidentially. Then he whispered, "My stand-in at the Councillor's office has been murdered."

  Sy let out a gasp and put his hand to his mouth. Peter frowned at him, grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "Don't make a scene. I don't want anyone to know about this."

  "Sorry," Sy said. "What are you going to do?"

  "Nothing," Tam whispered. "It's good news. Now Videl will think Leek is dead and quit looking for him."

  "Maybe," Peter said. "But the letter said to take no chances. We should assume someone here might try to kill me."

  "But how would they know who you really are?" Red asked.

  "Sgt. Baig says the Councillor has many enemies here. If they are not looking for me, they may be looking for those most loyal to the Supreme Mandate," Peter said.

  "Great," Sy moaned. "We could all be targets."

  "Exactly," Peter said. "So, no more talking politics. We must be wary of everyone we encounter—even other candidates. Any one of them could be one of Videl's spies."

  The night alarm sounded and the lights blinked on and off. As everyone started scrambling into bed Peter noticed another candidate staring at him. When their eyes met he felt him probe his thoughts. Peter turned away quickly. Fear shot through him like a bullet through a sponge. There was another candidate amongst them who had telepathic abilities. What had he learned from that short glance? Who was this candidate who had invaded his mind and what were his intentions? The lights suddenly went out and he was helpless to find out the answers to any of these questions.

  "Great! A sleepless night is all I need on the eve of field testing and final exams," he muttered to himself. For hours Peter feared he'd been discovered and that he and his friends were in mortal danger. If they were, when would their assailants attack? Tonight, while they slept? Tomorrow, during the field tests? Unable to sleep, Peter crept over to Tam's bunk and awakened him. Tam sat up and rubbed his eyes. Peter whispered, “Someone stole a thought from me. He may know who I am.”

  Tam sat up. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I'll stand watch for two kyloons. Then I'll awake you and you can watch for two more. Pass the watch to Sy after your turn is over." Tam nodded and laid his head back down on his pillow. Peter crept back to his bunk and in the dim light saw Sgt. Baig at the end of the barracks watching them. When their eyes met, he turned and went back to his quarters.

  Peter's heart was beating hard as he lay sleepless in his bunk. Tomorrow would be the most important day of his young life, so far at least. If he truly was the Liberator he had to survive the night and go on to do well in the morning. But what if an assassin came now while he slept in his bunk? Even if he saw the assassin approaching he'd be helpless to defend himself.

  Looking around the dark room, all seemed peaceful, so he slipped down to his locker and pulled out his C34 pistol. After making sure it was loaded, he climbed back into bed and put it under his pillow. Sy stirred above him, but did not awaken. After two kyloons had passed, he woke up Tam. Tam groaned a little but then sat up and blinked his eyes. Peter handed him the pistol and went back to his bunk. He was so exhausted he quickly fell asleep.

  During the night Peter dreamt of Luci. They were in the woods running hand in hand. It was a warm day and the sky was blue. It must have been Earth because he felt the warmth of the sun on his back. Luci was in a light blue paisley dress with white shoes and Peter wore white pants and a loose grey shirt. Her long black hair waved provocatively in the wind as they ran. Suddenly they stopped behind a big oak tree. They embraced and kissed passionately. As they were about to fall to the ground to give in to their passions, Peter heard a shot, felt Luci jerk in his arms, and whimper in painful agony. He looked in the direction of the gunshot and saw a man running away.

  Luci suddenly became dead weight in his arms. He squeezed her tightly to stop her from falling. Then he felt wetness on his hand. He pulled it from behind and saw that it was covered with blood. "Luci! No!," he screamed.

  A hand covered his mouth. "Leek!" Red whispered. "It's okay. "You're dreaming."

  Peter sat up and looked at Red's concerned face. Several of the candidates were stirring. "Sorry," Peter said. "What a nightmare."

  "I guess so," Red said, now smiling.

  "What time is it?" Peter asked.

  "Ten loons to the morning alarm. You might as well get up and get a head start on the day."

  "Good idea. Any problems last night?"

  "No, and I can't say I was thrilled to get awakened a kyloon early."

  "Sorry, but I thought it necessary under the circumstances."

  Red nodded, handed Peter his pistol, and went back to his bunk. Peter quickly began making his bed and getting ready to go to breakfast. When the morning alarm finally rang, Peter looked over at where the candidate, who had probed his mind, was sleeping. Surprisingly, the bunk was made and the candidate was nowhere to be found. Peter assumed he was in the bathroom, so he put his pistol back in his locker and pulled on his boots.

  Later, when Sgt. Baig began to take roll call, the missing candidate had still not returned to his bunk. Fear began to gnaw at Peter. Could this candidate be Videl's spy? Had his identity been discovered? Just as the sergeant was coming to the empty bunk, the candidate scampered around the corner and took up his proper position in front of his bunk. The sergeant looked at him unapprovingly.

  "Where have you been, Mr. Cystrom?" he demanded.

  "Personal business, sir,"
he replied. "I'm feeling a bit queasy with the tests and everything."

  The sergeant narrowed his eyes and then went on. Relief came over Peter like a cool breeze. Perhaps he meant me no harm. Peter began to doubt whether his mind had been probed at all. Maybe it was his imagination, he thought. He finally convinced himself that it was probably paranoia triggered by the letter from Lorin. Nonetheless, he vowed to keep an eye on Mr. Cystrom in the future. He couldn't be too careful when there was so much at stake.

 

 

  Rupra Bruda sat up in his bed. He felt the presence of his student, Evohn Cystrom, in his head. Just like Essyria, Cystrom had strong telepathic abilities and could communicate with him over long distances.

  “What is it?” Evohn.

  “There is a candidate here who several others believe is the Liberator. I have tried to probe his mind but he has it shielded well.”

  “That’s impossible. We assassinated Peter Turner some time ago.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, but I have probed the minds of two candidates who think this Leek Lanzia is the Liberator. Our drill sergeant, Sgt. Baig, believes so as well.”

  “Sgt. Baig believes he is the Liberator?”

  “Yes. He’s watching over him.”

  “Then it must be true. I thought the assassination of Peter Turner was too easy. Thank you, Evohn. Your father was right. You do have a bright future in the party.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Keep a close eye on Candidate Lanzia and his friends. See if you can gain their trust and join their group. That would be the best way to find out what they are up to.”

  “Yes, sir. I will.”

  The connection was broken and Rupra turned on the light. Essy stirred.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We didn’t kill the Liberator after all,” he said and then relayed the conversation to her.

  “So, I must send an assassin to Pogo Island,” Essy replied.

  “Or recruit someone locally. We don’t have much time before they graduate.”

  Essy sighed. “I have some female agents at Marlais Beach, but they would stick out on base. Perhaps General Bratford will know a marksman at Argot who can do the job.”

  “Yes,” Rupra agreed. “You should call him now.”