The Chaos Sutra

by Gregg Vann

  And they had revenge on their minds.

  The ancient memories—the old hatred—had been rekindled. They no longer cared about us simple barbarians; the Saba had more important matters to deal with. Visceral concerns that trumped thoughts of conquest or territory—a primal impetus that drove everything else from their minds. They sought vengeance—for this defeat, for the marshal’s death, and for the Yano’s perceived treachery. And they were going to extract their revenge in blood.

  Brenin blood.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Our ejection sequence had propelled us toward the scene of the battle, and we soon found ourselves drifting through a sea of assorted wreckage. I was able to easily identify debris from ships on both sides of the conflict.

  There were thousands of different sized pieces—some stationary, others zipping through space on varied trajectories—their course and speed determined by the manner of the ship’s destruction. But despite our tenuous situation and the remarkable view outside, Boe remained silent—completely oblivious to the overwhelming scene that surrounded our clear bubble. I suspected that he was being haunted by thoughts of what had befallen Obas. Whatever occupied his mind, I left him to contemplate it as I continued to peer out through space.

  Pieces of debris bounced harmlessly off our pod as we moved deeper into the battlefield, and although the clear walls seemed fragile, the craft was proving to be very resilient. The pod shuddered as we struck a large piece of some unfortunate ship’s hull, scraping down the side of it before floating free again. The impact arrested our momentum and we coasted to a stop, next to a thick cluster of twisted metal. The color scheme told me that just a few short hours ago it had been an Obas warship. I wondered briefly if any of the crew had managed to escape before turning my attention back to the debris field.

  It was hard to see them in the blackness of space, but I spotted other pods like ours among the wreckage—filled with Brenin prisoners waiting to be captured. Unsurprisingly, there were many allied emergency craft as well. Searchlights from rescue ships were slicing through the ebony wasteland—highlighting the larger pieces of broken vessels as they looked for sections that might still be pressurized. Their lights glinted brightly off floating pieces of polished metal, but disappeared almost entirely when they struck the deeply charred hull sections—swallowed up by a darkness that nearly matched the surrounding space.

  Eventually, one of the search beams fell across our pod; the light flowing unimpeded through the clear walls to immerse us in blinding brightness. Moments later, an Udek light-warship pulled up alongside us, nudging wreckage out of the way as it oriented itself with our hatch. Boe looked over with interest, but I could see that he was still lost in his thoughts…morosely so.

  We bumped into the ship and grappling arms shot out to capture us—pulling our craft up tightly against a mismatched, square hatch. Despite the different technologies, the Udek airlock was much larger that our pod’s door, and the docking collar hyperextended itself to force a proper seal.

  I looked over at Boe and found him staring through the clear wall at another Brenin escape pod—docked beside us at an adjacent airlock. There were three Brenin survivors inside it moving about excitedly, and I could just make out part of an Udek soldier, pointing a rifle at them through the docking collar. I watched as the Brenin skittered to the back of the pod, pushing their arms out in front of themselves defensively and trying to climb up the round walls. Then I saw a small ball fly through the air and land among them. The pod’s hatch slammed shut as the grenade detonated, coating the interior of the clear bubble with bluish blood and chunks of Brenin flesh. Then the grapples released, withdrawing back into the ship as the lifeless pod drifted out to space.

  “Why?” Boe asked. “I have no love for the Brenin, not after what they’ve done. But why kill them like that? What’s the point now?”

  But before I could answer, the air started to bleed out of our pod; it was being replaced with methane as the Udek prepared to come in. I felt around underneath the seat and found an oxygen mask; I saw Boe do the same. We’d just managed to pull them on when the hatch slid open, revealing two Udek standing behind it. One of them trained a rifle on us. The other was holding a grenade.

  I knew what came next.

  “An Obas?” one of them remarked. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

  “I don’t know, Reil,” the other soldier answered. “Nor do I care. He’s probably a spy working with the Brenin. Just toss the grenade in and get it over with.”

  “Hrelshhh! Lishnreee!” I yelled, and then quickly realized that I’d shut off the translator. The soldier with the rifle tightened his grip on the trigger.

  “Wait,” Boe pleaded. “I’m not the spy, he is. He’s one of yours.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Reil replied. He pulled his arm back to launch the grenade.

  I hurriedly activated the translator. “Listen to him, soldier. Unless you are prepared to explain your actions to the Udek Special Corp.”

  “Special Corp?” he repeated. “Who…what are you? And how do you know about them?”

  “I am Kiro Tien, of the Udek Defense Force. In disguise, obviously. I’m on a mission authorized by Colonel Eraz.”

  “Eraz?” Reil remarked, clearly surprised. “How could the Brenin already know about her new position?”

  “Maybe that Obas spy told them,” the other soldier answered, using his barrel to gesture at Boe.

  Reil paused, and I could tell that he was thinking the situation over carefully. He shrugged and then disabled the grenade. “I don’t need any trouble with Special Corp. Let’s take them to Captain Queltz and let him sort it all out.”

  “Yeah, I agree. Better not take any chances.”

  Queltz? It wasn’t a common name, but what were the odds of him being related to the general?

  The soldiers motioned for us to come with them and we got up to leave. The pair backed out and stood in the ship’s corridor, watching us closely as we exited the pod. “Special Corp or not,” Reil laughed. “I’d hate to be you two. The captain’s been a bigger bastard than usual since he found out his brother was killed on Bodhi Prime.”

  What were the odds?

  Pretty good, apparently.

  The two soldiers pushed us through the ship, never failing to kick at our backs when we didn’t move fast enough, and not afraid to stab at us with the gun barrel even when we did. The other Udek were surprised to see an Obas onboard, and outright stunned to find a live Brenin in their midst. It soon became apparent that they’d taken no prisoners…at all. They were killing every Brenin they could find, helpless or not.

  Between the hostile stares and constant prodding, I was glad when we finally reached our destination. Boe and I stepped up warily through the raised hatch leading to the bridge, and as the officers on deck slowly became aware of our presence, silence filled the room.

  The captain, easily identified by his uniform and resemblance to General Queltz, rose from his chair to meet us.

  “And what do we have here?” he asked, giving our escorts a stern look. “An Obas refugee and a Brenin captive?”

  “Refugee?” Boe repeated. “Then the missiles did strike planet? Obas has been poisoned?”

  “I don’t know,” Queltz replied. “I’ve been too busy killing Brenin to notice.” His eyes narrowed and he gave me a menacing glance—one designed to demonstrate exactly how he felt about them. Queltz then waved a hand at Boe, and two Udek soldiers stepped forward to grab his arms, dragging the Obas away and forcing him down into a nearby chair. He tried to get back up, but they shoved him down by his shoulders and held him there.

  Reil spoke up, defending his decision to bring us to the bridge. He pointed an unsteady arm in my direction. “He says he’s one of us, Captain. A Special Corp operative in disguise.”

  “Special Corp? Truly? In there?” Queltz stepped in closer to look at my face, as if trying to see the Udek hidden inside the Brenin body. “You spooks
do get up to the most bizarre things. What is your name?” he demanded.

  I had no choice but to tell him the truth. If I lied, he wouldn’t be able to confirm my story and I’d die anyway. I had to trust that Special Corps’ reputation for ruthlessly punishing anyone that interfered with their agents might offer me some protection.

  “Kiro Tien.”

  “Tien!” he spat. “You are the spy that killed my brother!”

  The other Udek witnessed their captain’s rage and backed away, knowing better than to interfere; this was now a personal matter between the two of us. Before he had a chance to fully withdraw, Queltz grabbed the rifle from our guard and spun around to slam the butt of it into my chest. I fell back a few steps, gasping for air—the impact aggravating the lung injury I’d suffered on the Brenin ship.

  “You son of a bitch,” he yelled. “It’s bad enough that you killed him, but somehow, you coaxed headquarters into erasing him completely—even got the Bodhi to back you. The Bodhi…of all people. Wait… Yes…yes, it all makes sense now. They put you in there, didn’t they? You’ve made some sort of arrangement with the Bodhi.”

  Queltz walked around me in a tight circle, studying my form—like a predator searching for weakness in its prey. Without warning, he lunged behind me and drove the rifle butt into my left leg; I fell to the ground, landing hard on my side.

  I rolled over onto my back, and looked up to find him staring at me through maniacal eyes. “Dead wasn’t good enough for you, was it, Tien? No! You had to steal any chance for my brother’s rebirth as well. But why? Your spook fraternity would protect you, even if the Bodhi brought him back. What do you fear, spy?”

  “I fear nothing,” I replied. “He died for what he did to my family.”

  Queltz stomped on my stomach—a quick, unexpected blow that left me coughing hard and unable to catch my breath.

  “Family?” he scoffed. “Ha! What do you know about family? Nothing! But don’t worry, spy, I’ll teach you. And it’ll be the last lesson you ever learn.” He stepped back and glared down at me, and I looked at his face and knew that all reason had fled his mind. I was sure of it. “Eraz has been hounding us to take prisoners anyway—to use them to gather intelligence—and I’m starting to agree. I think we’ll learn quite a bit from cutting you open.”

  He hit a release switch on the side of the rifle and a bayonet slid out from underneath the barrel. I saw the double-edged steel shine in the ambient light, and smelled the faint trace of oil on the blade—residual deposits left behind from its mechanical sheath. As far as I knew, the Udek were the only species whose military still used bladed weapons. A further testament to our famed barbarity, I supposed.

  Queltz looked over at two of the officers watching us and motioned for them to approach. They knelt down beside me and grabbed my arms, pinning me to the deck, then Queltz stepped forward and pointed the bayonet at my torso.

  The blade…Queltz’s actions, all of it, made me think of the remorseless Brenin—how we’d condemned them for their actions. But how were we any better? Throwing grenades into sealed escape pods? And for what? Sport? I understood violence well, had practiced it my entire life, but always with reason—always with a purpose. The deaths I’d witnessed on this ship served no purpose whatsoever.

  The Udek behavior didn’t make sense from a military standpoint either. The enemy had been neutralized, and prisoners meant intelligence, of which we had precious little. Captives could be used as bargaining chips with the Brenin, or serve as experimental subjects for biological weapons—just as the Brenin were going to do with Boe. At least then their deaths would have some type of meaning. But to just kill them because we could… What does that say about us?

  “What say we start with the chest?” Queltz said gleefully, placing the point of the bayonet on my sternum. He pressed the tip of it into my flesh, and a smile spread across his face as blood began to flow out, staining my tunic.

  I ignored the pain, just as I’d been trained to do, and kept staring at Queltz. I watched his face contort through different emotions as he savored the damage he was causing—witnessed the sublime satisfaction that inflicting torture gave him. And I realized that I was no longer watching as an Udek operative; I was seeing Queltz as the Obas and Bodhi do…or even the Brenin. I was looking at him through a prism—colored by my experiences in this new body, and my time spent among the Obas. I saw Queltz the way the rest of the galaxy sees the Udek, and my mind struggled to reconcile my upbringing with the derision I now felt for my own people.

  Is this what we’ve become? Or who we’ve always been…

  Queltz continued to press the blade in slowly, savoring my discomfort; the oil on the cutting edges stung as it mixed with my blood. A few more centimeters and he would hit my damaged lung. But this time, without Uli to heal me, I would surely die. And that realization was even more sobering than my new outlook on the Udek.

  I was actually going to die.

  Me.

  In that moment, I saw myself in Queltz’s face. How many of my targets had looked up at me like this? My face the last thing they’d seen. A few, I remembered, but not many. Most never even knew what happened before they died…because I was good at what I did. I was a very proficient killer. And it didn’t matter what body I inhabited, or what situation I found myself in, I’d always been good at one thing.

  Killing.

  The bledi emerged from my wrist and the universe slowed to a crawl. As the weapon sprang out, the soldier holding my arm released it in surprise—then froze for just a second, unsure of what was happening. But one second was all I needed. I kicked Queltz in the stomach with both legs, feeling immediate relief as he fell backward and the blade left my chest. Then I reached across my torso and drove the bledi straight through the face of the soldier holding my other arm. I withdrew it quickly, hopping to my feet as his body tipped over and fell to the floor.

  I felt the bledi lock into a more rigid form, becoming a long serrated knife—a lethal extension of my own arm. Queltz swiftly regained his footing and lunged at me with the bayonet, but I dropped down low and swung the Brenin blade in a wide arc. With a single motion, I knocked the rifle from his hands, and disemboweled the other soldier that had restrained me.

  The blow severed one of Queltz’s hands, and sent him tumbling backward, landing hard between two seats mounted in front of an instrumentation panel. He was off-balance and unable to control the fall, and his head struck the panel hard before he slid to the ground. As I started to walk toward him something flashed across my peripheral vision.

  I recognized the outline of a handgun.

  I pushed off the ground and launched myself backward, sailing through the air in a tumbling roll as only a Brenin could—landing directly behind the armed, and very surprised, Udek. Before he could react, I pulled his head back and slit his throat with the bledi.

  One of the other soldiers dove to the ground and grabbed Queltz’s rifle, bringing it up to fire. But before he could pull the trigger, I tore the gun from the frozen grip of the Udek I’d just slain and shot my would-be assailant in the forehead. His brain sprayed out over the shoes of the soldiers behind him and they all stopped in their tracks, motionless. The remaining Udek looked at each other and all came to the same conclusion. They slowly held their hands up in the air, including the two restraining Boe.

  This doesn’t concern any of you,” I said sternly. “Interfere, and die.”

  Boe stood up and walked over to pick up the rifle, pointing it at the collection of surviving Udek just in case any of them changed their minds and tried to stop us. Confident that everything was now under control, I headed back over to where Queltz had collapsed on the floor.

  I felt the bledi slide back into my arm as I moved. Seeris had been right; there was no method to them. They just worked. Queltz was groggy, and slid back down the console repeatedly as he tried to stand. I grabbed his neck tightly with one hand and lifted him up, placing the gun at the side of his head.


  “Let it go, Queltz. Your brother was a monster. And he paid for what he did to my wife. But there is no reason for you to die.”

  “Do it!” he yelled. He spat in my face and I felt the warm fluid run down my cheek. “Kill me, Tien. Do it! I swear…I will never rest until you’re dead. Really dead. You and that bitch wife of yours. I will chase you across the galax—”

  I pulled the trigger.

  A muffled pop—an explosion of tissue and blood—and then his life was gone.

  It’s what I do.

  But no longer who I am.

  Queltz was dead. Not in furtherance of the greater Udek agenda, like all of my previous missions. No…he died because he was trying to kill me. That’s why he lay quavering in my grasp—his residual nerve impulses flaring and subsiding as the last traces of life ebbed away. He did this. Not me. And I was no longer like him, or any other Udek for that matter. Nor would I ever be again.

  I let his body drop and backed away.

  One of the Udek officers behind me spoke up. “How the hell do you expect to get off this ship after killing the captain?”

  I turned around to reply, but before I got the chance, a loud beeping sound filled the bridge. One of the officers pointed at a nearby console. “We are being hailed.”

  “Well, answer it,” I replied brusquely.

  The Udek hesitantly shuffled over to the comm unit, keeping his eyes on me the entire time—as if expecting me to shoot him at any moment. He opened the channel and a familiar yet surprising voice rang out.

  “This is Brother Dyson of the Bodhi. I believe you have some of my property onboard. Colonel Eraz has given me leave to retrieve it.”

  I used my tunic sleeve to wipe the spittle off my face, then tucked the gun into my waistband and smiled.

  “It looks like my ride is here.”

  Chapter Thirty