by Gregg Vann
“Tien?”
“Yes, Boe. It’s me.” I noticed that he was trying very hard to ignore the pair of Brenin beside us. He was clearly uncomfortable with the transference process, and even though he knew I was an Udek, it still must have come as a shock to see me as one.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “What are you doing here?”
“I was sent by Speaker Lews with a proposition for you.”
“A proposition? What kind of proposition?”
“One that we need to discuss in private.” He tilted his head in the direction of Seeris and Uli.
“Like a frightened child,” Seeris laughed. “You needn’t worry about us, little Obas. I could care less about your secrets. Barring any treachery or broken promises from the Bodhi or this Udek, my sister and I are returning to Bren. Assuming we can find a ship, of course.”
“We have one,” Uli said. “Brother Dyson has agreed to provide us with a fast transport, as recompense for my help with the surgery to remove that chamber from your body. But I sense he also has another agenda, one that he isn’t sharing.”
“No doubt,” Seeris agreed. “But as I said, Obas, we are leaving.”
Boe seemed unsatisfied. “Why don’t we step outside, Tien? As a precaution?”
“The Obas and their precautions,” I replied. Then I glanced over at Seeris. “But in this case, I agree.”
Dasi and I followed Boe out to the hallway and the Obas closed the door behind us. But instead of stopping there, he motioned for us to keep moving—until we passed through a pair of doors at the end of the long corridor and stepped outside the building. My eyes struggled to adapt to the bright sunlight as we walked away from the large structure and the shade it provided.
We finally came to a halt in an open courtyard and Boe explained our curious exodus. “With their improved senses, I wanted to get much farther away.” He looked around to make sure we were alone before continuing. Apparently, he didn’t trust the Bodhi either.
“The Assembly would like to hire you as a military advisor, Tien. Not many of our ships remain, but we intend to rebuild the fleet—even larger and stronger this time. And we could use your expertise to do it. Although our engineers are excellent, and we have virtually unlimited resources, our experience with war has been limited to recent events. We would greatly value your input, on both ship design and military tactics.”
Boe glanced around the courtyard again and then looked down to avoid my eyes—unmistakably nervous about his next words. “To be honest, Tien, we know you have nowhere else to go.” He raised his head and I saw the determination on his face, a surety of strength that I’d never before associated with his race. “The Obas can protect you,” he said. “And you can help us be strong. We’ve learned our lesson; we will be participating in galactic affairs in the future. In fact, we intend to become a force in the galaxy…one to be reckoned with. We understand now that it’s the best way to protect ourselves. It will take time, and a great deal of adjustment, but we are ready to look beyond Obas.”
“What is he talking about, Tien.” Dasi was confused by Boe’s proposal, but I was merely surprised…and intrigued.
“He’s offering me a job, Dasi.” I pointed at my mask. “And what about this? We would have to spend the rest of our lives in respirators.”
“No! No,” Boe said excitedly. “We’ve already considered that. Our engineers are converting a large, private chamber into a methane-mixture environment on its own closed system—complete with a pool leading out to the ocean. We will arrange it however you like.”
“A beach around the pool would be nice,” I replied. “Along with some Udek sized diving suits.”
“Done. You will also have full access to our cities, of course. And the surface as well. Everything that Obas has to offer.”
Dasi was even more bewildered now. “Tien. Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“We are going swimming,” I said. Boe grinned at my reply and the answer it implied.
“Swimming?” she asked, now completely exasperated.
I smiled and took her hands in my own. “Don’t worry, Dasi. I’m sure you will approve.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The next day, I walked out onto the tarmac with Seeris and Uli. Dasi and Boe had remained behind to prepare for our departure, while Brother Dyson joined me in escorting the Brenin to their ship. I’d explained to everyone that I wanted a few words in private with the Brenin before they left. Thankfully, no one questioned why.
Because there was still one secret I needed to keep.
As we approached the vessel, Brother Dyson came to a halt, staying behind to afford me some privacy. Uli looked back at the monk curiously before walking up the short ramp to go inside the ship—leaving me alone on the landing pad with Seeris. He started to speak, but I cut him off before he got the chance. “Despite my current status—outside the Udek ranks as it were—I’ve managed to access a few classified intelligence reports. The Saba have attacked the Yano, and the other, smaller factions are already choosing sides for the coming clan war. The march against us continues, but there are now violent cracks in the Brenin unity.”
Seeris took a few steps up the ramp, and then turned to me with an amused look on his face. “We will still prevail, Udek. Our fleet at its worse is still more than enough to dispose of whatever coalition you children manage to assemble. Our shielding—”
“Will prove useless, Seeris. The Obas collected an enormous amount of data during the battle, and have already developed a way to detect the primary…using their own technology.” I shook my head and grinned. “You were right about my casual dismissal of them; I was being arrogant—but no longer. The Brenin will find out how wrong they were too, in underestimating all of us. I’ll admit that the battles ahead will be difficult, but in time, between the Brenin infighting, our new alliances, and the ability to disrupt your shield, we will defeat you. And even if you do find a way to eliminate the shield’s vulnerability, we will devise another way around it…again and again. We have no choice.”
Seeris wasn’t swayed by my predictions in the least. “You will never win. We will—”
“You will lose, Seeris,” I stated flatly. “And one other thing, I know where Bren is. I saw it in the ancient dream. Your ancestor looked up at the sky several times, and I recognized the Mujen Nebulae and Kolis Expanse. I studied my view of them in-depth, gauging approximately where I’d have to be in the galaxy to observe them from that position. They filled the sky, so I knew that Bren was close. The Obas provided me with a dataslate, and I used a stellar cartography program from their library to determine which systems were proximate to that area. Then I searched for a planet that met the detailed description that you provided me with during our incarceration…and I found it.”
“Impossible!” he snapped. “I don’t remember that.”
It was after your synapses had almost fully degraded—when you disappeared, and my mind was mine alone.”
Seeris realized that I was telling the truth and his face blanked; his demeanor changing completely as the innate Brenin arrogance evaporated, replaced by unprecedented sensations of self-doubt and uncertainty.
“My people believe in vengeance,” I told him. “They crave it, Seeris. And they will not stop until every last one of you are dead, even after this war is over.”
“You told them where Bren is?” He breathed.
“No,” I replied truthfully. “I told them everything else…but not that. You see, Seeris, we will win this war. And when it’s over, there will be a reckoning. We are freeing you for a single reason—it’s why Dyson gave you this ship in the first place. We want you to return to your planet and do everything you can to keep the Brenin from coming this way again. Because if they do, I will tell every race where your home system is.”
He stared at my face as I spoke, his eyes glazed over in disbelief.
“Then we will invade your world, Seeris.
And burn your trees to the ground.”
For the first time, Seeris actually looked afraid. And it was clearly an emotion he had no familiarity with. He spun around without saying another word, walking the rest of the way up the ramp and into the ship. And as the door slid closed behind him, I heard the engines start to power up. But despite his hasty and silent departure, I knew he got the message.
I backed away from the vessel and rejoined Brother Dyson— still waiting patiently on the periphery of the landing pad— then we began our stroll back to the Bodhi complex. “A productive conversation?” he asked.
“I believe so. But I’m going to entrust you with some sensitive information as insurance—to use in the future if it becomes necessary.”
“Ah… So you actually trust me now, Tien?”
“No, monk. But I trust myself even less.”
We turned to watch as the ship rose into the air, hurriedly speeding off through the sunlit sky of Bodhi Prime. I knew that it would slip unnoticed past the waiting Udek warship, just as our departure would on the Boe’s ship later that day. They weren’t expecting us to flee, and there would be hell to pay when they found out. As the burst shuttle finally disappeared from view, Dyson and I resumed our walk to the building where Boe and Dasi waited.
“How will you explain our disappearance?” I asked the monk.
“I haven’t decided yet. Transference mishap perhaps…it was a complicated procedure. But I’ve been dealing with the Udek for quite a while now, I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” I replied. “You know, Brother Dyson, you are not at all what I expected a Bodhi Monk to be like.”
“Truthfully, Tien, I never expected to walk this crooked path myself. But the ancient texts are sadly lacking in ways to deal with modern problems. I often find myself making some very difficult choices. At times, even desperate ones…”
There was a deep, melancholy timbre to his voice, revealing that I wasn’t the only one haunted by my actions in the past. But something told me that Brother Dyson’s ghosts would linger far longer than my own. The august monk was being forced to change—circumstances and situations beyond his control, conspiring to shape him into someone new.
Very much like myself, I realized.
As a result of this whole experience, I’d been changed as well. My drive for violence, that part of my psyche that made murder acceptable—commonplace even—that part of me was gone. I was someone new, and I would never kill again.
Not willingly anyway.
I stopped abruptly and turned to face Dyson, finding the old monk still struggling with his own thoughts. “At the beginning of this madness, you asked me why I let that boy live. Why I hadn’t killed him like all of the others.”
“I remember,” he replied.
I sucked a deep breath in through my respirator and collected my thoughts, confirming my own understanding of what transpired that night before sharing it with the monk—reliving the memory as if it were only yesterday.
“I’d successfully infiltrated the compound,” I began. “Easily making my way past the numerous guards undetected. I followed my pre-planned route precisely, evading the continuous patrols—dodging from structure to structure until I reached the boy’s location at the main house. When it was safe, I climbed up the side of a building opposite his bedroom window and set up a killing perch on the roof. And then I waited…silent and still. Finally, two hours later, I watched through my rifle sight as he came out of the bathroom and pulled the covers back on his bed.”
Dyson’s eyes bade me to continue as I paused to remember the moment, recalling the thing I saw that night that changed the entire path of my life—the harmless little object that had brought down so much death and destruction, just by its presence in that room.
It was a small toy.
“When the boy pulled the sheet back,” I continued, “a stuffed animal flew out and bounced across the floor, landing right in front of the window. He ran over to pick it up, then paused with his prize, looking through the glass at the courtyard below. As he stood there, I saw the toy clearly through the scope. It was a Kisiba, a blue one.”
The monk’s expression told me he had no idea what I was talking about so I explained. “It’s a small creature from my home world, very dangerous actually, but toys in its likeness are popular with Udek children. I know this because I’d bought one just before leaving on that last mission; it was blue as well. A present, for my unborn son.”
Dyson seemed unfazed by the revelation, but what are children to a monk? Did they mean anything to the Bodhi beyond the life force they represented?
Probably not.
“Dasi didn’t know that she was pregnant,” I told him. “But we Udek males can tell. We are always the first to know. I was going to surprise her with the good news and the Kisiba when I returned home.”
“I understand what happened to you now,” the old monk said knowingly. “You saw your own son in that child at the window.”
“Yes,” I hissed, angry that my weakness had been revealed. No… Not weakness. I was convinced that my newfound morality might one day prove to be my greatest strength. But right now, it felt like a badge of abject failure. There was still a large part of me that defined itself by my successes as an assassin.
“I had the shot, monk…more than once. But I let each opportunity pass. Instead of pulling the trigger, I watched the child get into bed and pull the covers up to his chin, then I turned off the scope and lowered my rifle. I just couldn’t do it…not anymore. I imagined another Special Corp assassin, like myself, waiting outside my son’s window in the future—a soulless murderer, sent to kill my child for something I’d done.”
The memories came even faster now as I detailed my next actions. “I quickly packed up everything and rappelled down the side of the building—retracing my steps back out of the compound and abandoning the mission. I headed straight for the starport, then left the planet to make my way home.
But Special Corp found out about my betrayal almost as soon as I’d committed it. I should have known; gathering information is what we…what they do. The Corp had already taken Dasi away by the time I got there, and then killed them both on Nilot. My wife and my son.”
I started walking again to break the growing melancholy, and Dyson fell into step beside me. “At least I have Dasi back.”
He reached up and placed his hand on my shoulder and I resisted the urge to pull away. “You have more than that, Tien. The records they sent from Nilot were quite complete,” he said approvingly. “And surprisingly complex.”
“What are you saying, monk?”
“That your son is alive, Tien. Restored…inside Dasi, just as he was.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “But how?”
“Well, our reputation is justified.” He smiled.
My son…is alive.
“I…I don’t know how to thank you, Brother Dyson.”
“There is no need to thank me, Tien. Life is its own reward. Besides, you are no longer the man you were; you will be an excellent father. A man your son can be proud of.”
Yes. I will.
This whole experience had changed me. Being in Seeris’ body and living among aliens, even for such a short time, had fundamentally altered the way I viewed other races. And the events aboard Captain Queltz’s ship forever changed how I saw the Udek.
And my former self.
I couldn’t help but smile. The Bodhi had managed to impose their will on me whether they’d intended to or not; I did regret my sins. And General Queltz had been right about that, there were many to atone for. But now, as unlikely as it was, I’d found some measure of redemption, and I was enjoying the growing solace it provided.
On the horizon, I saw Boe’s ship perched atop a small landing pad, the vehicle that would take me to my new life. Soon, Dasi and I would leave for that tranquil sanctuary, a place where I would teach the Obas how to thrive in this violent galaxy—even as I myself
withdrew from it. On Obas, we would build a peaceful life together for our son. The three of us would be happy, and I would never look back.
Unless they came for me.
I knew that Special Corp would be preoccupied with the war now, but later, they might send someone to tie up loose ends—to remove me as a potential threat…and to protect their secrets.
In which case they would find me ready: A seasoned killer, ever training, never letting my skills wane. An accomplished assassin with no compulsion to kill, but every ability to do so if it became necessary.
An instrument of death…best left alone.
In peace.
Monk
It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways.
Gautama Buddha
Identity
I carry a dead man’s soul in my chest.
They could have put it anywhere, I suppose. But the more I think about it, and I have thought about it, the chest does seem most appropriate. Secured behind my ribcage in a heavily shielded chamber, it’s certainly the safest place for it.
You should know that he was a rapist and a murderer, sometimes only subjecting his victims to one of these horrible crimes, but usually—brutally—they suffered through both.
This soul is heavy with sin.
The inhuman monster met his end in a hail of laser fire, flesh and hair melting into an impossibly small ball of human remains. I know this because I felt it.
And it hurt.
You see, I have his memories—all of them. And I remember with overwhelming clarity every emotion he selfishly indulged in, the barely controlled madness of everything Fallon Gent ever did.
The orgasm inducing sadism he so relished while torturing his victims; the thrill of hearing a woman choke to death with his/my hands around her neck—thrusting myself into her repeatedly until she finally lay motionless…quiet…dead.
