Genocide

by Chad R. Odom

  The room was bland. Stainless-steel walls with coffin-sized stainless-steel doors lining each side. There were ten columns of coffins with ten coffins in each column. They were numbered numerically, starting at the top right and going down. This was obviously crypt one because each coffin in this room began with the number one. 101 at the top right, 102 below it and so on.

  Tomlinson allowed her to adjust to the temperature and the air before getting the keys to the coffins. The system to accessing the coffins was somewhat old as the temperature often wreaked havoc on electronic equipment, so Tomlinson slid the step ladder to the second column and scaled it until he was close enough to 114 to use the key and unlock the coffin.

  Celeste stood on the floor, anxiously looking up at him. He pointed to the far wall. “There’s another ladder right there. Bring it over.”

  Celeste did as she was told and soon she stood with Tomlinson peering into the final resting place of a brave soldier who died in complete autonomy. Clear plastic wrapped the body, which was still in a military uniform. She noticed the uniform the soldier was wearing looked much newer than the condition of the corpse.

  “Did they find him like this? In his uniform, I mean?” she asked.

  “No. The uniform was added after the embalming fluid. These uniforms are a dignified way to help preserve the body. Don’t ask me how.”

  Her chest rose and fell in quick, deep breaths. She looked at the body and then at Tomlinson. Back at the body and again at the Major. He finally noticed her anxiety. “We have to open this, don’t we?” he asked. She nodded.

  He reached above the soldier’s head and began to unseal the plastic. Once he had broken the seal he pulled the plastic down past the soldier’s waist. The smell of formaldehyde and other chemicals filled their nostrils and made Celeste feel queasy. With another uncomfortable glance at the Major, she told him, “I have to reach beneath the uniform.”

  To her surprise, the Major didn’t hesitate. “He won’t mind. Probably the best-looking woman he’s had touching his body in a long time. Just put these on first.” Tomlinson handed her a pair of medical gloves, which she slipped onto her hands.

  She appreciated the levity but didn’t relish the task ahead. Slowly, she unbuttoned a single button above the sternum and then slid her hand beneath his uniform until she was beneath the right breast pocket. There, just as Armay had promised, she could feel a small plastic bag with an even smaller solid crystal scroll tucked neatly inside it.

  Tomlinson was leaning in, eager to see if his willingness to violate a few protocols was justified. She removed her hand from the soldier’s jacket and revealed what she had found. It was tiny, easy to have been missed, but Tomlinson gazed at it as if she had just unearthed the biggest discovery in history.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Believe it or not, a journal. Just like the one that brought me here,” she replied. She put the scroll deeply into her pocket and then took a hard gulp. “The next part’s even worse.”

  She reached to the unknown’s face and placed a hand over what remained of his upper lip and nose and the other she placed firmly on his chin. Gently she gave the jaw a pull. It didn’t move much. She applied a little more pressure and felt a small give, but she was still nowhere near getting it completely open.

  “It’s in his mouth?” Tomlinson asked.

  “Uh-huh,” she grunted. “And I’m trying not to…”

  Tomlinson reached out and snapped the mouth open, breaking the jaw from the skull. Celeste jumped back, steadied herself on the step-ladder and gave him a bewildered look.

  He shrugged and simply said, “They don’t need him in one piece to identify him. Besides, there are guys in here in a lot worse shape than him.”

  Celeste let her eyes slowly focus back on the task she came to accomplish. There, jammed into the upper palate of the corpse was an object. Tomlinson pried it free, studied it for a moment, then handed it to Celeste. She looked over its features. It was cylindrical and the color of polished ivory. Beyond that, there were no details as to its purpose.

  “Okay, what’s that?” Tomlinson asked.

  Celeste shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  The Major and Celeste did their best to replace the broken jaw, resealed the plastic over the unknown, and then returned him to his slumber. It wasn’t long before Celeste found herself standing outside the back door of the building with Tomlinson awkwardly bidding her farewell.

  “Well, this night certainly has been…interesting,” he said.

  She stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for not arresting me and for…everything else.”

  “I would’ve done anything for Armay. Even if we had found nothing, at least I know he’s finally resting…wherever he is.”

  “He had some wonderful friends.” She expressed her gratitude again and turned to leave. Before she could get out of his sight, he spoke to her again.

  “The last time he was here, he left those things. No one heard from him again after that. Sometimes…sometimes secrets need to be left secret. Be careful.” With that warning sounding in her ears, she left him to uncover Armay’s secrets.

  ***

  The ghost of Armay glowed to life again. Celeste sat in her hotel room staring at the face of her father-in-law. He stared back at her for a moment then spoke quickly.

  “I don’t know you, but if you’re here, that means you’ve come to the same conclusion I did, and then you know as I did, there’s no time to lose.

  “There’s an Agryphim in the Camp.”

  Celeste listened intently to Armay disclose the name of the betrayer of the Archides. Her mouth fell open and her heart sank into her stomach. There was no time. They were all in extreme danger. When the news hit her, she uttered only two words. “My God.”

  The Best Laid Plans

  Balsa’s plane was about to land. He was about to culminate his many lives’ worth of work.

  Not long ago, Damrich requested an urgent meeting with him, and had given him precise instructions on how to make Balsa what he was about to become. The plan had gone off without a hitch. It was so flawless; he even had time to throw in a few personal touches of his own. He had some of his previously untouchable rivals killed, he settled old scores, and dissolved outstanding debts, not to mention handsomely rewarding those who had supported him along the way. All of it was untraceable back to him, of course.

  Then there was the imprisoning of all military leaders in Navarus. Lucius Kovac never saw that one coming! Much of Kovac’s imprisonment was a publicity stunt, but it served multiple purposes. Kovac was a finely tuned machine of war, no matter what he’d said to the contrary. Replacing him had been a calculated decision to make the eventual take-over easier. The General was a figure that Balsa could not afford to remain unchecked. However, he did not want Kovac dead. If Kovac would side with him…what a beautiful marriage!

  His personal favorite: the execution of Navarro. Damrich had hinted around the idea and, although he did not say so directly, gave Balsa full permission to do so. When he’d taken the palace in Obsidian, the noose had already been strung.

  All of these things weren’t designed to place Balsa in power. On the contrary, Balsa turned down all offers of direct leadership in the post-war world. He chose instead to be simply a spectator and a Counselor. It was his “calling” to travel to the leaders of the world and see to it the people were their primary focus. Tonight, he was out to do just that.

  Despite all of these things, he felt there had been a serious loss to the week. This was supposed to be the week he dispatched of Damrich. This was the week that the informant had told him about in his dark office months ago. His plans were laid and he was so close! It would have been perfect.

  Unfortunately, once he started making his political moves, things became very complicated. It wasn’t that Damrich’s plans changed slightly, they simply never happened. Damrich was an expert at being invisible, but Therion was careful not to tip
his hand. He made no travel arrangements; he had not made any changes to his schedule in any of his lives. If Damrich were watching, it would seem like business as usual.

  With his notoriety now being further elevated, Damrich could easily take the opportunity to pay some political extremist to kill Balsa. If Damrich knew that he was being hunted, it was only a matter of time before he retaliated.

  That was also what made this visit to Tamrus so difficult. It had to be as secret as possible, but it involved more than just him. Two special forces units had been deployed. That meant at least twenty people knew. There were advisors, aids and friends; each needing to verify his alibi. An operation such as this needed plausible deniability on a lot of levels. He could have done this without making a personal appearance, but there was no way he would miss the last of his ‘personal touches’ to this whole plan.

  “Mr. Balsa, we’re making our final descent now. There’s a transport waiting for you at the landing strip,” the pilot filled him in on the last few details.

  “How far from the strip is the King’s home?”

  “Just over an hour, sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  Balsa leaned back in his chair. Just the possibility of what he was about to accomplish was worth the trip. Within forty-eight hours, he could say he’d executed two of the three most powerful men in the world. Although, he was not sure exactly how he would dispose of the good King. The only thing he knew for certain was that it would not be nearly as swift as Navarro. After tonight, he only needed to fear one man: Damrich. Therion let a sadistic smile cross his lips as he felt the wheels touch the ground.

  ***

  Usually, when Balsa was being escorted by the military, it was an uncomfortable trip. No matter how respectful and gentle they tried to be, they could not fully discard their heavy hands. He hated the feeling that he was a criminal each time they lowered his head for him to enter a vehicle or when they surrounded him as he walked. He was by no means a stranger to guns, but when he was the only one without one, it made him a bit uneasy no matter how loyal the company.

  Not only was security around him tight, but it was more thorough than he had ever known. The usual chatter of communication between operatives in unseen locations was non-existent. It had to be. There could be no risk of being discovered this night. No one could know about this operation until it was complete. Silence added to the thrill of the evening.

  Fires illuminated the distance. The men had been ordered to security towers and any other buildings that were relevant to the abode of King Tamrus. Their flames shimmered against his window, giving each an other-worldly halo.

  Finally, the trees thinned, and the massive courtyard spread before them. High iron fences guided the path between the pristinely kept landscape and the road. Therion could see groups of aids and staff lying on their bellies with their hands bound behind their backs and their faces shrouded.

  As the transpod turned into the drive, Therion saw the full beauty of the operation. Everywhere, the absolute proficiency of the Imperial Army’s elite, could be seen. Hand signals were made and acknowledged. Troops moved prisoners from the palace and into the courtyard in complete silence. If a prisoner tried to blindly flee, a marksman from the trees beyond took their lives with a whisper of a gunshot.

  The transpod circled the fountain that marked the end of the drive. The driver pulled Balsa’s door parallel to the main entrance and stopped. Half a second later, a young soldier opened the door and Balsa stepped out to a barrage of salutes. He returned the gesture, strolled up the lavish front stairs, and into the palace. An officer matched his stride and spoke in hushed tones.

  “Mr. Balsa, we secured the entire compound. Communication to the outside world has been severed.”

  What a marvel. “What about the King?”

  The pair headed up a long flight of stairs. There were soldiers along the hall with prisoners kneeling in front of them. Like those on the lawn, they were bound and hooded, but the troops kept them on their knees so as to make room for Balsa’s passing. He and the officer came to a large set of double doors.

  “There are two sets of doors here,” the officer instructed. “Once you open the first, there’s a fifteen foot corridor to the second set. All intrusion counter-measures have been disabled, so there should be no resistance there. The guards have barricaded themselves into the King’s chamber with Tamrus. On your command, we’ll flood the chamber with gas through the air ducts. Once we breach the door, the guards should scatter.”

  Therion felt his heart race. “I want to be the first man in the room once it’s breached.”

  “Sir, that’s a very high risk. I object to…”

  “Your objection is noted. Once the guards are out, I’ll be left alone. Is that in any way unclear?”

  The officer held a look of discomfort but acknowledged the order. Balsa put on a vest of armor, and the soldiers began unleashing the gas into the chamber beyond the doors. The first set had been opened safely, and from beyond the second set of doors, the shuffle of men in pain could be heard. They listened to the guards from inside trying frantically to remove the barricades they had placed in front of the door.

  “It’s almost time,” the officer told Balsa. “Once we blow the doors, the chemicals in the explosives we’re using will nullify the effect of the gas but only to those who haven’t already inhaled it. Those boys will pour out of there in a hurry, but we’ll all be ok.”

  “You and your men wait here to police the guards.”

  He signaled one of his men who clasped his hands together tightly. There was the faint sound of an explosion, and the doors tumbled down at the hinges. Green gas poured out just as a yellowish gas rushed in. Grown men bolted from the room in panic. Their eyes were bloodshot with tears flowing in steady streams down their cheeks. Mucus and blood drained from their noses, and a painful-looking rash had begun to spread across some of the men’s exposed skin.

  Therion waded into the chaos and the fog. Men, like apparitions charged by, coughing violently and gasping for air. He watched each one, making sure none of them was Tamrus. His own throat slightly burned, his eyes watered, and nose began running. The gas they used on the inside of the room was potent.

  Still he pressed on. He ignored the burning and the discomfort. This was his moment. He had paved a violent road to get to this point. Not one person in millennia could have accomplished what he was about to.

  The fog wrapped around him, only broken by the passing of some other delirious man desperately to escape the agony of the King’s chamber. Therion pressed on oblivious to the pandemonium. Inside the room, the gas was beginning to clear out. He could see a lavishly decorated four-post bed through the mist and his own tears. Dozens rushed past him toward the only exit, and others fumbled around not sure where the exit was.

  The fog cleared a bit more, and he could vaguely make out something he could not place. There appeared one figure in the crowd that remained still. Therion focused on him. He was trying to adjust his gaze to confirm in his brain what his eyes were conveying. He walked closer, striding confidently toward the arrogant man who dared not run. Somehow, Tamrus was enduring the pain in a last act of defiance and false courage. Stubborn to the last! How perfect.

  Therion let an evil smile cross his lips as he strode forward ready to show the last face Tamrus would ever see. With a few long strides, he made his way powerfully toward his nemesis but stopped in his tracks.

  Therion had a clear view of the man who would not be moved. Though he had never seen an Arkon in person, he knew this man was one. Just when he thought he had Damrich, Damrich had him.

  In that room, dressed in white, was an enemy far more dangerous than Tamrus. Blazing blue eyes pierced his own, and the Arkon effortlessly rendered him unconscious.

  Moments later, the soldiers entered the room to clear it of any remaining guards so that Balsa could have his wishes and be alone with Tamrus. After several minutes passed, the bewildered men returned to rep
ort to their commanding officer that there was no one left in the room. Not even Balsa, who seemed to have evaporated with the fog he had disappeared into only minutes earlier.

  Rescue

  Oryan had to act fast, almost impulsively, to accomplish his goal. It was no short trip from the dwelling of the Archides to Tamrus’s home. Oryan had Bartlett smuggle Tamrus out only hours before the military units arrived. The brave guards remained to keep up the ruse. Oryan’s knowledge of Imperial military tactics was expert (especially since he had perfected most of them), and now he had Doran Balsa in his trunk to give Corvus and Sicari for interrogation. Taeger and Lathena each took a decoy, and the three of them all took different exits, with the plan to meet back at the camp.

  Balsa’s absence would be noticed but possibly not reported immediately. Hopefully, by the time Damrich found out, Sicari and Corvus had a chance to interrogate Balsa, but that was their business. He’d saved Tamrus, and that was all he cared about. The rest was just a courtesy.

  So, Oryan drove through the remainder of the day and into the evening trying to reach the Quarter and the teleportation node as far as possible. He had been awake for thirty-six hours, and the drudge of the long road took its toll. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and cracked the window. Cool air spilled in and wrapped around his face. He felt his skin react to the sudden change in temperature, which provided a lift to his fatigue, but he knew it was only temporary. There was still over a dozen hours of travel remaining, and stopping was not an option.

  The road was not a major highway, but it provided the most direct route Oryan could take while staying off the more publically used routes. The moonlight lit the leaves of a wall of trees less than a mile away but left them colorless. It was a black-and-white world full of shadows and silence.

  The trees were only a few seconds ahead. They were tall trunks with very few low-hanging branches that allowed him to see little of the road beyond them. From the corner of his eye, in the trees to his right, he saw the distant flash of orange flame.