The Chaos Sutra

by Gregg Vann

  The Chaos Sutra

  The Complete Chronicles of Bodhi Prime

  Gregg Vann

  Copyright © 2019 by Gregg Vann

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  Silver Rocket Press

  Author Website: GreggVann.com

  Contents

  Preface

  Assassin’s War

  Monk

  Assassin’s Prey

  The Wheel of Life

  The Chaos Sutra

  Respected acolyte.

  At this point in your studies you have read the Heart and Diamond Sutras. You have also examined the ancient Vedas, and mastered the nuanced subtleties presented by varied, and sometimes contradictory, Judeo-Christian traditions. You have even been exposed to alien religious customs, practiced by the Udek, the Volasi, and the Blenej. Now you are ready for lessons from this very place. Concerning our own, venerable Order.

  In this book you will find a carefully selected assortment of cautionary tales, collected from the soul chambers of those who actually lived through the events—though some of the narrative elements were provided by recording devices and private records, or by sifting through and piecing together interviews from the many contemporaneous witnesses. But the important thing to remember is this: It is all true.

  Every word.

  You will find inspirational stories within this tome—featuring pious monks, and lethal assassins. But you will also read about a brutal and sadistic killer, one who toyed with his victims in the cruelest of ways. Most importantly, this book recounts the interstellar war that cost this galaxy trillions of innocent souls, and details the fateful and bloody return of one of this monastery’s most famous sons.

  That event changed our Order forever.

  As always, be mindful. These stories illuminate several hard lessons that you must embrace on your path to enlightenment—primarily dealing with the subjects of hubris and redemption, but also examining the transient nature of the human soul…in its most literal of meanings. So reflect on this sutra well, for there are valuable insights strewn throughout the entirety of it.

  Any acolyte undergoing this study is certain to have their perceptions challenged. Preconceived notions will and should fall away as you learn the truth of things. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing. Not out in the greater universe at large, or even here, on Bodhi Prime. That you need to understand well—without a hint of equivocation—and it’s why this is the only text that all Bodhi monks are required to read, and compelled to explain their complete and total understanding.

  These parables are that important.

  Be warned before you engage in this pursuit that the Order will be depicted in an unfavorable light. But this shouldn’t strain your affections for the teachings of the Buddha.

  The failures were ours.

  They were mine.

  So open your mind and embrace these tales. Look for the cold, unfeeling truths in them. But also, seek out the lies, paying particular attention to how we so cleverly deceived ourselves during those turbulent times. This sutra was designed to highlight that great folly so that it may never happen again. And as the next incarnation of The Order of Buddha’s Light, it will be your duty to see that it never does.

  May the Buddha’s infinite blessings fall upon all who see these words. And may his abundant forgiveness help cleanse our imperfect nature.

  Brother Augustus Dyson.

  Buddhist Master of Bodhi Prime.

  Assassin’s War

  We never stray far from the beast.

  No matter how elaborate the trappings of our technology—the improbable enlightenment we claim to possess—man is no better than even the most feral of creatures. And often, we are far, far worse.

  Where the beast kills out of necessity, or a primal compunction to do so, we kill for power…for greed…sport and pleasure. Treating life as a mere commodity, a pliable impediment to be removed as needed.

  Just another avenue to manifest our most base desires.

  We view life as currency to be spent—as long as we can do so without invoking the wrath of someone stronger than ourselves. And in that statement lies the truth of it: the only real restraint placed on man and his ilk—the arguably intelligent species of the galaxy—is the fear of retribution.

  Was it any wonder, then, that this day would eventually come? The ascendancy of another creature…one far more powerful. An animal whose views closely mirrored our own on the cruel, yet necessary dictates of life.

  So why were we so surprised when that beast set out to destroy us all?

  From the collected writings of Brother Augustus Dyson.

  Buddhist Master of Bodhi Prime

  Chapter One

  I grabbed the back of his head with one hand, using the other to drive the needleblade deep into his eye socket—plunging it far back into the brain. There was a slight bump in the handle as the blade expanded inside his skull, pushing spikes out from its hollow core and into the surrounding tissue. The response was immediate; the guard’s body seized up taut, then began to slowly collapse to the ground. I used my firm grip on his head to quietly lower the lifeless form to the dirt.

  One down, several hundred to go.

  I depressed a button at the base of the handle and the spikes retracted, allowing me to pull the blade out and slide it back into a sheath on my wrist. Then I grabbed the corpse by its clothing and dragged it behind a half-wall attached to the side of the remote sentry outpost.

  I walked back around and stepped inside the squat structure, quickly finding the communications console and attaching an intelligent responder to it. The device would locate the guard’s schedule and all recorded transmissions, then use that information to mimic his voice—reporting in as required. The device was also capable of communicating independently if the outpost was contacted unexpectedly—extrapolating the necessary responses based on what it found in the normal comm traffic between the outpost and the base’s security command.

  With this precaution in place, I walked back outside and toggled my infra-lens to scan the horizon. The eyepiece cut through the deep blackness of night, creating a faux vista that exposed more detail than even Nilot’s bright daylight typically revealed. Panning down to the valley below, I was forced to admire the completeness of the security grid. Multi layered and robust, it was renowned for its ability to keep prisoners in, and would-be rescuers out. And in its twenty year history of housing the Udek Confederation’s greatest enemies, this installation had been never been successfully breached.

  Until tonight, I thought. Tonight, that reputation falls. Tonight…we will both be free.

  I reactivated my darksuit and left the outpost behind, melding back into the night as I followed the craggy, rock trail that stretched further up the side of the mountain. I moved quickly yet silently, just in case there were audio monitors. My suit kept me invisible to video scanners, but it was up to me to mask my sound trail. And I did so with practiced moves—shaped by years of operational experience. In an occupation where the slightest sound could alert your enemy and cost you your life, you learned to exist in a nether-state—there, but not there. You mastered silent movement.

  Or you died.

  I peered out over the rock ledge as I moved, watching through the hazy atmosphere as the lights dotting the plain below flickered in and out. Each one indicating a military structure that ranged in size from simple guard posts, like the one I’d just left, to heavily fortified bunkers, manned by dozens of highly trained commandos. All part of a lethal web de
signed to repel large assaults from without…or quell violent uprisings from within. But they hadn’t anticipated my actions—a clandestine infiltration by one man—at least, I hoped they hadn’t.

  The most prominent feature across the landscape below was a pair of bright red lines, running adjacent to one another through the center of the plain. They marked the main road leading to the prison’s entrance; a direct and infamous route to death or permanent disappearance. But I had another access point in mind that would help me avoid either of those fates; a much more circuitous route that should allow me to get inside undetected.

  For the next half hour, I moved briskly up the trail, jogging parallel to the red lines of death far below. I watched carefully as I got closer to the prison proper. At first, I could only make out buildings and large vehicles, but eventually, I got close enough to see individual people as they moved about on their assigned duties. I slowed down accordingly to better mask my own movements.

  The well-worn path finally ended at a wooden barrier—a crossbar barricade with a glaring, fluorescent warning sign attached. On the other side of it, I saw that the trail was gone, leaving only a small ledge where the path used to be. From my research for this mission, I knew that the footpath had broken off and collapsed into the canyon, long ago. The remaining ledge was a mere six inches wide, just enough for a passable, if perilous footing.

  I stepped behind the garish barricade and placed my back against the rock wall—my feet side-to-side—then began inching my way forward to get around a jagged outcropping. As I came around the corner—emerging on the other side of the mountain—I saw the end of the ledge just ahead. From this tiny perch, I didn’t need to lean out to see the prison below; it was so close now that light spilling out from the buildings merged with pivoting searchlights to cast an eerie glow…one that threatened my concealment.

  I increased the magnification on my lenses and watched as the armed patrols moved through the compound below me—following the usual pattern, just as expected. The crisscrossing patrol routes were stringent and unchanging—designed for maximum efficiency—but their regularity was an unusual weakness in an otherwise impressive display of security. One of the very few I found to exploit.

  Pushing away from the wall slightly, I pulled a self-boring eyebolt from my backpack and pressed it into the rock face directly above my head. Four tiny legs popped out of the cylinder to steady it, then the round, center insert began to rotate, effortlessly boring into the rock.

  As the bolt set about its work, I removed my rifle from the vertical sling next to my backpack and zoomed in on the force field surrounding the prison below. I measured out the exact trajectory I would need to land on the correct roof, and then estimated the smallest aperture required to breach the shield with minimal disruption. Timing would be critical. The hole had to last long enough for me to glide through without touching the edges, but not so long as to set off the intrusion alarms.

  It was not an easy thing to do.

  My lenses calculated and displayed an optimized glide path, and then I lined up my shot accordingly. I leaned back against the rock to steady myself and then slowly pulled the trigger, watching through the scope as the tiny disrupt-projectile flew toward its target. The result was anticlimactic, but satisfying; a small hole appeared in the shield and then began to incrementally grow larger. If you weren't looking for it, it would never become apparent. But I was watching the breach unfold in real time, and saw the creeping hole produce subtle changes in the color and shade of the force field. The view through the gap was darker and more detailed than the surrounding area.

  I placed a lockdart on the tip of the rifle, and then tied it to a spool of microfilament on my belt. Once again I raised the gun to fire, but this time had to make allowances for the unique wind conditions on both sides of the force field. Outside, the wind was from the west and sporadic. But inside the compound, the environmental controls pushed a steady stream of air in the opposite direction. My lenses read all of these variables and provided a continuously updated line of fire through the scope. The path changed rapidly as I watched, displayed as a curved white line that shifted up or down—and side to side—as the conditions changed.

  I concentrated closely on the flow of information and fired.

  I held my breath as the black carbon dart flew through the air—sailing through the newly opened hole in the shield. I finally exhaled when the dart hit home and the scope’s telemetry confirmed its position. It had ended up perfectly placed in an upright stanchion, with just the right amount of elevation for my descent.

  Reaching back over my shoulder, I dropped the rifle into its sling—with luck, I wouldn’t need it anymore—then I attached the microfilament to the eyebolt, now firmly lodged in the rock overhead. I gave it a tug to test the connection, then pulled a glide tube out of my backpack and locked my gloves together around it—snapping it over the microfilament via a tiny slit that ran down its length.

  Now I wait, I thought.

  Watching the guards make their rounds below actually comforted me. As long as they did what they were expected to do, I could make this happen. But any variation at all in their routine would disrupt my timing, and rob me of this one chance to infiltrate the base.

  Keep going…that’s it…two more meters…

  I leapt.

  A trio of guards walked around the rear corner of the building, starting the clock on a precise series of events that I’d planned for meticulously. Flying down the line, the crisp night air and adrenaline worked together to heighten my senses; I used that clarity to visibly scan the structures on this side of the prison complex. One person at one window… That’s all it would take to end this mission right now. But it didn’t happen. I compressed my gloves and the binders activated, slowing my drop to a gentle slide. I landed on the roof with barely a bump.

  In one motion, I hit the release on the dart and pulled it from the pillar—the microfilament broke down and dissipated into the wind. No trace remaining. Looking back, I was gratified to see the small window I’d sailed through closing up tightly behind me, erasing all evidence of my passage.

  I’d done it. I’d broken into one of the most heavily protected sites in the entire galaxy.

  Now all I had to do was complete my mission.

  And get back out again.

  Chapter Two

  By the time the patrol had rounded the building for a third time, I’d worked my way down from the roof and to the bottom floor—using darkened window sills and exterior piping as climbing structures. I lightly dropped the last few feet to the ground, then quickly bypassed the security lock—entering the building before the patrol made their way back around front. The door opened into a short, brightly lit hallway, dead-ending at a desk with a single, surprised occupant.

  “Who the hell are yo—?”

  His question was cut short by the thrown blade slicing through his larynx.

  The guard frantically grabbed at the knife—splattering blood across the desk and nearby walls as he twisted his body madly. Somehow, he managed to grasp the small dagger with his blood-drenched fingers and yanked it out of his neck. He looked down at the blade in disbelief, and then back over at me before collapsing. His body bounced off the desk and then fell to the floor. I ran over and retrieved my knife—still clenched in his hand—then searched the security station thoroughly until I found the release switch. I triggered it and a large door behind the desk slid aside, disappearing into the wall.

  Through the opening, I saw a large cellblock with a central, common area that lay open all the way up to the roof. Confinement cells lined the outside walls of each of the five levels, all linked together by metal stairs and walkways. The Nilot prison complex was huge, and there were hundreds of prisoners in this one block alone, but I was only concerned with one of them.

  Dasi.

  My wife.

  I knew exactly where she was being held and started walking briskly—then jogging—until finally, I broke into
a run. I bolted up the first set of stairs that led to the second floor. But even in my haste, I made sure my footfalls remained silent—just as I had been trained to do. I’d chosen the middle of the night for many reasons, striking when everyone was asleep was chief among them.

  I hit the top of the steps and started reading cell numbers. 226…227…228.

  Here.

  Manipulating the same cypherpick I’d used to get into the building, I bypassed the simple lock and flung the door open. Knife in hand, I darted inside. A disheveled figure that had been hidden under the covers sat up in bed.

  “Who are you?” he croaked.

  “Shhhh. Where is she? Where is Dasi?”

  He stood up with difficulty and gave me a strange look; I did a quick threat assessment and found none. He was a badly injured Blenej Red—his two lower arms amputated roughly at the elbows. It was obvious to me that he’d been beaten and tortured.

  “An Udek woman,” I whispered harshly. “This woman.” I showed him the holo-image that I always carried with me.

  “Who are you?” he asked again. The effort to speak caused him to start coughing loudly.

  “Quiet!” I admonished him. “I’m her husband.”

  His eyes widened and some of the color bled from his face. “You are too late, Udek. They killed her. They killed her yesterday in the middle of this block.”

  No! It can’t be!

  “You may be one of them, but I pity you, Udek. No one should have to endure what they did to her.” He shook his head slowly and his face grew sympathetic. “They terrified and humiliated her in front of the entire block—yelling at her—kicking and punching her in the stomach. She cried the whole time, calling for someone named Tien. They laughed at her…spit on her…told her he was the reason she was being put to death.”