by Gregg Vann
Brother Ryll slid deeper into the cushioned seat and strapped himself in, preparing to eject from the ship, and then the monk prayed. He knew the vessel’s weapons array couldn’t be made to fire on one of its own escape pods—the Friend-or-Foe discrimination program wouldn’t allow it. But Miso could still choose to pursue Ryll and ram the small craft, and it wouldn’t take much of a collision to fracture the escape pod’s hull and spill all of its air into space.
A prayer seemed rather prudent.
The voice on the intercom returned.
{I see you’ve made your choice, Ryll. So be it. Stay out here and die a slow death, then. Starvation or asphyxiation, I really don’t care which. We’re far from the regular transit lanes, and you can’t possibly reach any planets in that little pod, I’ve already checked. So enjoy what little time you have left, young fool. Now you’re just one less Bodhi for me to worry about}
Miso’s voice was dismissed by a sudden jolt as the pod ejected from the ship—pushing Ryll deep into the seat, and leaving him in total, blissful silence. He gazed out of the lone window, directly across from him, watching as his stolen vessel sped away. Brother Ryll checked the ship’s trajectory on his instruments.
He’s not heading toward Bodhi Prime, so at least there’s that. But where is he going? Then Ryll had another thought, one that chilled him to the bone. Buddha help us if Miso discovers the true nature of that body he’s wearing—or realizes everything his codes grant him access to at the monastery.
The pod’s little engine kicked in with a thump and Ryll began his own journey. Despite the many thoughts plaguing his mind at the moment—Dyson’s fate, the safety of the monastery, and speculation about Miso’s dark intentions—another glance out the window at the vast emptiness of space forced the monk to concentrate on his own desperate situation. Brother Ryll was alone, equipped with minimal supplies. And he was in the middle of nowhere, with only a tiny propulsion system to gently drive him forward.
Making his way ever so slowly…
Toward Obas.
Chapter Eleven
“What did the doctor say?” Dasi asked.
She motioned for Tien to sit down next to her on a black sofa, situated near the center of the cavern’s main living area. Tien fell into it hard, leaning up against the padded backing and resting his injured arm in his lap.
“That it will be weeks, possibly even months, before I can use my arm again.”
Dasi sensed his disappointment. “I’m just glad you’re still alive,” she said—and meant it. Dasi remembered his condition right after the attack, and wondering if Tien would even make it. His injuries were almost as severe as those that sent him to Hyer for an extended recovery, several years ago. Back when he was still with the Udek Special Corp.
Years ago, Dasi thought to herself. This has been going on for years. I can’t even remember anything else…another way of living.
“Where’s Nsari?” Tien asked. “I expected to find him running all over the place when I got back.”
Dasi smiled. “He’s sleeping, thankfully. And he was running all over the place.” She slid in closer and placed her hand on Tien’s injured arm, caressing it gently. “I want to go with you next time, Kiro. We’ve been under a virtual lock-down since the attack, and I need to spend some time outside this chamber. I’ll take any excuse I can get.”
“There won’t be another checkup for a while,” Tien replied. “There’s nothing more Doctor Fenra can do now. It’s just a matter of waiting for my body to heal itself. But Boe mentioned taking a trip to the surface, so I’ll set it up. It will give Nsari a chance to run through the grass again, and see the oceans from above. And, of course, the open sky.”
Dasi smiled agreement, but the gesture was half-hearted, and notably insincere. Tien didn’t need his Special Corp training to see right through it. For an Udek, the surface of Obas was infinitely better than the undersea world the natives preferred, and was certainly closer to the environment Dasi and Tien were accustomed to on Ko’ln. But the world above also served as a reminder of all that they’d lost, and was an altogether poor substitute for actual freedom—for being able to go where you want, when you want, without fearing for your life.
After this latest incident, Tien knew that they’d have to take a security detail along with them to the surface. That much was understood, and Tien agreed, necessary. But it would make the outing a limited experience, at best. How can you relax with armed guards stationed nearby? While waiting for the next—and Tien was convinced, inevitable—Udek assassin to take a shot at you?
Tien glanced around the smoothly polished walls of the natural cavern—skillfully hewn out and expanded when the Obas prepared the custom environment to serve as their home. He noted the rounded entryway leading to their sleeping quarters, and the smaller room next to it where Nsari now dozed. Both spaces rested off in one corner of the main living area. The home was also equipped with a kitchen, right across from the small gym where Tien kept his fighting skills sharp. But those rooms were tucked away in a separate section of the cavern, accessible through a short tunnel.
A few meters in front of them was the feature that dominated the residence—one that was distinctly Obas, and impossible to ignore. A crescent-shaped beach sloped down gently into a pool of crystal clear water, roughly five meters in diameter. Two diving suits hung off a short partition wall adjacent to the pool, along with the bubble-suit they used to take Nsari out exploring with them. Like the Obas breeding pools, there was a long channel carved out beneath the placid water, leading straight to the sea. The tunnel wound through the undersea mountain for almost fifty meters before emptying into the open ocean beyond.
Tien turned his head to view the airlock he’d just passed through, the portal leading to the entirety of the Obas civilization. There was Edo, the capital city where they lived. And the large collection of other undersea metropolises, spaced all around the planet. Even the small Obas settlements built up on the surface offered much-needed diversions. Beyond that portal, there was an endless amount of things to do, and places to explore. The Obas had provided Tien and his family with everything they’d asked for—and even more things they hadn’t. And though their life here was simple, it was safe. Or it had been, anyway. Until the Special Corp found out that Tien was hiding on Obas, and then began sending assassins to kill him.
His eyes eventually fell on Dasi’s face again, and Tien realized that something was wrong—something more than just feeling cooped up, or worrying about the aftereffects of Tien’s injuries.
“What is it, Dasi?” he asked, sitting up straighter. “What’s happened?”
She looked up at him, and Tien saw the sorrow Dasi had worked so hard to conceal. “It’s my father.”
“Liseq? What wrong with him?”
“He isn’t doing well, Kiro. Not well at all. I found out today they think he only has a few months left—at most.” Dasi sighed heavily. “I wish he could meet Nsari before he leaves us. I just want my father to know his…” Her voice choked up, fading to silence as Dasi struggled to contain her emotions.
Tien used his good arm to pull her in closer. “I know, Dasi. And I understand. I wish there was something we could do. Some way we could go back to Ko’ln and visit him. But if we leave Obas, the Special Corp will track us down long before we get there. It just isn’t safe.”
“I know that, Kiro. I do.”
Tien felt responsible for her sadness…for everything. “I’m sorry, Dasi. This is all my fault.”
“Don’t say that,” she said forcefully, pulling away from him. “Don’t you ever say that. You did what was right. What you had to do. They killed me, Kiro. They murdered Nsari. Our son. Never forget that, because I certainly haven’t.”
Tien was amazed at how quickly she’d shifted from sorrow to rage. Dasi was right, of course. And if not for the Bodhi, his family would have remained dead. But Tien’s regret went well beyond recent history. He’d long carried guilt for what his life in the C
orp had done to Dasi. How his service to that organization had acted like a lingering, malignant disease—spreading through every aspect of their lives, and tainting their very existence with its pestilence. Now that sickness was trying to claim Nsari’s future as well.
Tien glanced at the airlock again.
An Udek assassin was just outside my family’s door.
A killer.
How could he not feel responsible?
Tien pushed those thoughts aside. They were the ones that led to fear and hesitation. The ones that got you killed.
“Maybe I can find a way to smuggle Liseq out,” he offered hopefully. “I still have connections on Ko’ln who might be able to help us. Possibly even a few people in the Corp I can tru—”
“No, no, no,” Dasi said, waving her hands emphatically. “It’s too risky. And even if you did manage to pull it off, my father wouldn’t survive the trip. He’s too weak, Kiro. He’s nearing the end.”
“Have you spoken with Liseq directly?” Tien asked.
“I tried today when they gave me the news. But he was tired, and resting.”
“At least the Udek government isn’t blocking your transmissions.”
Despite her deep-seated melancholy, Dasi smirked. “You know as well as I do that the only reason they allow any communication at all with Ko’ln is so they can monitor everything I say, looking for intelligence about you.”
“Yes. But in this case, that works in our favor.”
Tien had been surprised by the Udek reaction, at first. They contacted friends and family immediately after word broke that they’d taken refuge on Obas, trying to warn them about possible retaliation by the government. They found everyone safe, and most remarkably, not incarcerated. But after the debacle with General Queltz—when he’d kidnapped Dasi, and then imprisoned, tortured, and murdered her—the Udek government seemed far less willing to bring families into the equation, no matter how pressing an issue. It helped that serving members of the Special Corp and military both had made their displeasure with the whole affair perfectly clear. After all, it might be one of them next time. And the general feeling was if they would do that to a member of the Special Corp, then no one was immune. The end result of the uproar was that Tien and Dasi’s families were safe, for the time being. But they were both still viewed as traitors, and didn’t enjoy the same protections. At least Tien had gotten his revenge on General Queltz. He would never be troubling them, or anyone else, ever again.
Dasi nestled her head up snugly against Tien’s chest, and then she closed her eyes. “I don’t miss our home world that much,” she lied. Dasi had sensed Tien’s guilt, and was working to allay it. “I certainly don’t miss the government, or your old job. That’s for sure. And the Obas have given us a good life here, Kiro, so please don’t read too much into my mood. I only wish that we could see our families from time to time. That’s all.” Dasi leaned back so she could look in Tien’s eyes. “How wonderful would it be to stroll beneath the stars without breathing masks?” she asked wistfully. “Even for just a day or two.”
“I feel the same way, Dasi,” he assured her. “And I want our son to have those things as well—and to know his family. If I can ever figure out a way to make that happen, I’ll stop at nothing to see that it’s done. I promise you.”
“Come,” she said, getting up from the sofa. “Let’s go to bed. We’ve both had a busy day and could use some rest.”
“And who knows when Nsari might wake up again,” Tien added.
“Yes.” Dasi smiled. “There’s that, too.”
Chapter Twelve
“A visitor?” Tien repeated into the comm unit. “For me? Here on Obas? It must be some kind of ploy by the Special Corp.”
“I don’t think so,” Master Pilot Boe said, reassuringly. “Not this time, anyway. He’s a Bodhi monk.”
A monk? The news caught Tien completely off guard. “Brother Dyson?” he asked.
“No. He says his name is Brother Ryll, and he asked for you specifically by name. He claims to have an extremely urgent matter to discuss with you—and you alone. He’s quite insistent, though frantic might be a more apt description. But whether he’s actually telling the truth, or playing a part in some elaborate deception, I just can’t say.”
“Where is he now?” Tien said wearily.
“Military headquarters, undergoing interrogation. I assumed you would want to speak with him yourself.”
“I do. Absolutely. Give me a half-hour to get there; I’m leaving now.”
“He’ll be waiting, I assure you. Even if we released him, I doubt this monk would go anywhere.”
Tien turned off the comm unit and sat up. Dasi was lying next to him on the bed, still asleep. He knew she must be exhausted if the call hadn’t woken her, and Tien understood why. Children possessed the uncanny ability to sap every ounce of energy from their parents, leaving them shambling, incoherent shells by the end of the day. Younger kids were overburdened with that power, and Nsari was no exception to the rule. If anything, he was a living, breathing testament to its veracity.
Tien leaned over and gently caressed Dasi’s cheek. She briefly stirred and rolled away from him, but remained asleep. Tien got up. He quickly dressed and stepped into the airlock, placing a breathing mask over his face as the cycle began. Then Tien exchanged his methane environment for a toxic one, composed primarily of nitrogen and oxygen, and departed the one place left in the galaxy where he could function without a mask.
He strolled past two heavily armed Obas guards posted at the entrance to his private corridor—just beyond the landing pad where Boe had delivered him the day before—and Tien made his way through the secured door. He merged into the great mass of Obas just beyond it, the shifting host of them moving down the pedestrian thoroughfare in calm, yet purposefully driven clusters. Tien headed straight for the nearest transport interchange, certain he was being discreetly followed by at least one protective detail. But he no longer cared; Tien’s mind was otherwise occupied. He was eager to get to the Obas military headquarters as soon as possible, so he could unravel the mystery behind this curious and potentially troublesome turn of events. Tien could have summoned a dome car directly to his private landing pad, but this method always seemed faster. And today, Tien’s curiosity was propelling him forward with an enviable degree of momentum.
What could possibly bring the Bodhi here? he wondered. If it was really them at all. And what do they want with me?
A dome car smoothly dropped from the sky as he arrived at the interchange and Tien eased himself into it, setting his destination on the control panel. The car then sped off just as quickly as it had appeared. He knew the fully autonomous vehicle required no further input from him, so Tien leaned back to enjoy the view.
The dome car rose high up into the sky—far beyond the cavern’s natural ceiling, and into one of the Obas-made cylinders extending into the sea. It eventually leveled off and flew between a pair of tall buildings, toward a shimmering, semi-permeable force field marking the border with the water. As the dome car passed through the transparent barrier the force field hugged its dimensions perfectly, and not a drop of liquid intruded back into the city. The transition to deep ocean was so smooth that out of all of Tien’s senses, only his eyes even realized it had occurred.
He considered his surroundings as the car glided through the open water, crossing the small span to the next major undersea structure where Tien’s destination waited. The light emanating from the colossal city illuminated the surrounding area like a miniature sun, highlighting the omnipresent schools of deep-sea fish, and the larger predators that invariably followed in their wake. The Obas explained that the fish were drawn in by Edo’s bright lights, involuntarily lured away from the brill-covered mountainsides where they normally roamed. But the colorful schools were only a tiny fraction of a much larger spectacle. Kiro Tien had ventured to many planets during his tenure as a Special Corp operative—always for nefarious purposes, of course. But in al
l of his travels, the undersea world of Obas was a singular sight.
And one that never grew old.
He lost the magnificent view as the dome car passed through another portal and re-entered the city, dropping down into an over-sized hangar beneath the grounds of the Obas military headquarters. Tien climbed out of the vehicle as the engine audibly shut down, and he found a uniformed soldier waiting for him.
“If you will please follow me,” the man said.
The soldier remained silent as they strode past several guard posts and further into the underground complex. And after several minutes, he abruptly stopped in front of a nondescript door. The Obas pulled it open and stepped aside, motioning for Tien to enter the room. Tien saw a human male sagging down almost lifelessly in an armless chair—pushed up tightly against the back wall. He was flanked by a pair of armed Obas guards. Master Pilot Boe was standing in front of the prisoner, and he glanced back at Tien as he walked into the room.
“Kiro Tien!” the monk exclaimed. His face brightened, and the man appeared overcome with relief. “At last! You’re here. You must help me. I’m Brother Ryll…from the Order of Buddha’s Light. You have to help me!”
“Calm down,” Tien told him. “Help you do what? And why are you here? On Obas?”
One of the guards chuckled. “He almost wasn’t. If our long-range sensors hadn’t picked up the weak emergency signal coming from his escape pod, he’d be dead by now.”
“He’s right,” Boe agreed. “This human nearly died, Tien. He is very determined to see you.”
Tien approached the monk and looked him over curiously. He certainly seemed to be one of the Bodhi. Tien noticed an obvious head injury and the monk’s clothes were stained with blood. From the crumpled and filthy robe, the head wound, and the smell, it was clear that he’d suffered through some type of ordeal—or was trying to make it look like he had. Tien tried to place the man from one of his earlier visits to the monastery on Prime, but his face was altogether unfamiliar.
