The Last Narkoy_OSLO

by Elizabeth Price

  “Well, that’s handy,” Rokaa smirked.

  ___

  Rosanheer stared down at the computer pad in front of him. On the screen were images of Sedom that he had taken last time he saw her fight. Images of the crash flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes, hoping to fight back the images. Suddenly Sedom’s voice screamed out in terror.

  “Sortec!” he cried out. His eyes popped open, scanning the room in a panic. He stopped at an unfamiliar face lurking in the doorway. He could feel the man meant him no harm, but he still felt uneasy with his presence.

  “Can I help you?” Rosanheer called out.

  “I heard you in the hall. Are you alright?” the man asked, still lingering by the doorway.

  Rosanheer nodded as he rubbed his temples. “I’m dealing with my demons. Uh… no malice. Come in,” he waved for the man to come inside.

  Tausi inched inside the large room used as a recreation area for the Novaac. “You’re Telenvanc’s son?” he questioned with shaky words. Rosanheer nodded slowly, unsure why the man asked. “Sorry, I’m being… rude. I overheard a conversation about you. It seems strange that Sortec would think so highly of you, considering.”

  Rosanheer examined the man, scowling at first but then he noticed Tausi’s golden-yellow eyes. “Considering my father killed so many Narkoy and Matrads? Yes, I know. Wait… you’ve met Sortec?” he questioned.

  “Briefly. I was housed in a cage next to her last night. Your Chisarel said I should tell you, even with her collar, she recognized you and called you a friend. Her words,” Tausi said. “She knew you were in the stands.”

  Rosanheer sat back in his seat, noticeably concerned yet a smile still crept to his lips. “She recognized me?”

  “Only that you were a friend. I short-circuited her collar. Her memories have returned since,” he explained.

  Then a thought dawned on Rosanheer. He snapped his fingers, pointing at Tausi. “Jeina said she had someone help Sortec from the inside. You must be him.”

  A tinge of pink fell over Tausi’s pale cheeks. “Yes. We’ve been friends for a long time. When she informed me of Sortec, I was honored to help.”

  The room grew eerily quiet. Rosanheer’s eyes turned to the door. It was then he realized it was only the two of them in the room. “You’re… a game player?”

  Tausi chuckled, grinning slightly as he turned to show Rosanheer his marks. “Yes… I was,” he exhaled with exasperation. “Hopefully I’ll never have to go back again.”

  “How well do you know the underground housing?” Rosanheer asked with sudden clarity.

  “Well enough, why?” Tausi asked.

  Rosanheer stood with ambition, waving him to follow. “Come with me. You might just have the knowledge to help us save Sortec.”

  ___

  In the main ship bay, Danstu and Bagaaris met Captain Cembre and Captain Ooganal. Both Captains saluted Danstu.

  “Chisarel, Captain Ooganal as ordered,” Cembre introduced. “You’re cargo is also in orbit.”

  “Good work, Captain. This is my chief of operations, Bagaaris. He’ll be handling your orders from now on,” Danstu explained as Bagaaris shook both captain’s hands. He motioned to a crew of eight men walking towards them. “As for the Azeran, transport these men to the ship and they’ll take her off your hands.”

  “The Azeran? Is that what the Assan was towing? Why are we in possession of a Dormin ship?” Ooganal questioned low so his crew behind them wouldn’t hear.

  Danstu frowned with his own question. “Captain? The Azeran is not a Dormin ship,” he explained.

  Ooganal started to say something but paused. He started again, continuing in his low voice. “Six years ago it was flying under the Dormin’s call sign when it attacked a Marisheio outpost. The outpost was destroyed. We were under the impression it was the Dormin,” he mentioned.

  Danstu grew anxious. He glanced at Bagaaris, who said nothing. “The Azeran is a Tasgool ship,” he returned, not giving any further explanation. He pointed to a group of people waiting next to a transport ship. “Captain Ooganal, your ship awaits its new crew. You’re orders are to accompany the Assan to the Cha’laan border and wait to make contact with the Untella,” he said, ending their conversation.

  Danstu and Bagaaris continued on, leaving the Captains to their new orders. Danstu could feel Bagaaris’ questions radiating from his mind. “Yes,” he answered.

  “Chisarel?” Bagaaris questioned.

  “Yes, the Tasgool attacked first. We don’t know what provoked the attack, but that is why the Azeran is disabled,” Danstu explained low.

  “That goes without saying, sir,” Bagaaris returned.

  ___

  Rokaa Desvin stared out the viewport window of his bedroom. The planet of Clovucutte was looming below his ship, beckoning him to his doom. He was sure he was just overreacting, but something inside him kept scratching at his insides, warning him not to step foot on the planet.

  “It must be my Narkoy blood,” he thought out loud.

  “Sir?” asked one of his guards standing by the door.

  He waved him on. “It’s nothing. Nerves,” he admitted.

  The captain of the Untulla’s voice called over the speaker in his room. “Our friends are departing, Marnet.”

  Rokaa turned his attention to the viewport window to see Zion and Ryn fly off towards the planet in their stolen ships.

  “God’s speed, gentlemen,” he whispered. How he envied the Tasgool’s men. Although they were in a dangerous position, they knew their situation. Rokaa hadn’t a clue what he was facing. On one hand he had to find Sedom. On the other hand, he had to stay clear of any would-be assassins.

  The ship slowly descended upon the planet. As it approached, Rokaa watched as his ship was guided towards a massive runway that looked like it could accommodate a ship four times the size of the Untulla.

  The ship lowered, causing a dust storm in its wake. Rokaa nodded several times as if nodding would help motivate him towards the door. In a burst of energy, he forced himself to the door.

  “For Sedom,” he encouraged himself.

  Outside, he was met by twelve armed Marisheio guards dressed in the uniforms of the royal house. A husky Marisheio man stepped foreword, bowing. Beside him stood Jeina, who seemed stunted in comparison to the man she was with. A bouquet of locally grown flowers was cradled in her arms.

  “Marnet Rokaa Desvin, you humble us with your presence. Welcome to Clovucutte,” the man announced.

  Jeina stepped forward, offering Rokaa the flowers. “Marnet, welcome,” she said as she bowed.

  “Uh… thank you,” Rokaa spoke uncertain.

  “I am Aristis Muol. I’ll be handling your arrangements while you’re on this planet. You will not need your guards. The Cassaus is requesting you use her own,” he motioned to the dozen guards behind him.

  “Uh… I would feel better--” Rokaa protested.

  “She insists,” Aristis returned. “Come. You must be exhausted. I will show you to your quarters.”

  Rokaa glanced over his shoulder to his own personal guard, knowing that if he agreed to Aristis terms it may be his end. Though, if he didn’t it would raise questions.

  “Fine. Stay with the ship. I’ll check in twice a day and inform you of my whereabouts,” he offered.

  He started walking with Aristis, Jeina right behind them. “There’s nothing to worry about, Marnet,” Jeina whispered to him.

  “I wish I was so certain,” he muttered.

  FOURTEEN

  Later that evening, Rokaa was led to a ballroom about a quarter the size of his ship. He peered around the busy hall, searching for the woman he was told to meet. There were close to three hundred people all mingling about, not to mention the servants rushing around. He glanced up to the bright crystal chandelier above him, wondering how sturdy it was hung.

  Not only was he looking for the Novaac’s contact, he had to worry about someone attacking him. How he wished he had his guards. The Ca
ssaus’ personal assistant insisted that their own guards would do an adequate job of keeping him safe, but he couldn’t help but feel as if the guards themselves were out to kill him.

  “You look lost,” the Cassaus stated as she walked over to Rokaa. “Do all young Rook look so bewildered?”

  “Cassaus.” Rokaa bowed.

  She waved him on. “Call me Santurra, please.”

  Rokaa grinned as he took a glass of alcohol from a passing servant. “Santurra, then. No, I was impressed by the chandelier. Obvairn crystal, if I’m correct?” he said.

  “Impressive,” the Cassaus said as she moved aside a lock of her long, black hair from her pale lime cheek. She wet her lips slightly as she wrapped her hand around his upper arm. “I hear this is your first time visiting Clovucutte.”

  “Yes. It’s… not what I expected,” he admitted.

  “Cassaus,” a woman spoke from behind them.

  They turned to see a young woman dressed in a military uniform. She bowed as they turned to her. Rokaa blinked several times, focusing on the pendant around the woman’s neck. To his amusement it was his contact, Jeina. Santurra glanced at Jeina, noticing her standing at attention.

  “How so?” the Cassaus continued, ignoring Jeina.

  “Well, you have trees. I thought Clovucutte no longer had trees or farmlands,” Rokaa pointed out.

  Santurra motioned for Jeina to answer. “Marnet,” she began with a bow, “since our expansion into the galaxy, we no longer need to mine resources as we once did. We have replenished lifeless soil, providing it with the nutrients to plant crops and trees. Over the past hundred years since the rebirth of agriculture we’ve managed to produce clean air to sustain our citizens without the need for air purifiers. We believe that we will have full sustainability within the next fifty years,” she explained.

  “Now I’m impressed,” Rokaa said amused, unable to keep his eyes off her necklace.

  “You two know each other?” Santurra asked noticing Rokaa studying her tensely.

  He shook his shock aside. “No. She resembles a girl I attended school with,” he covered.

  Santurra snapped her fingers and Jeina came forward. “This is Rasadan Recanda. She’s the head of media and public affairs. She has her thumb on the heartbeat of our society. She knows everything,” Santurra explained.

  They began to walk, Rokaa remaining slightly behind to speak to Jeina. “I have no doubt,” he whispered. She glanced over at him, shooting him a wink.

  “I do hope you are enjoying your stay here on Clovucutte, Marnet. I hear you’ll be attending your first game tomorrow. Our citizens are anxiously waiting your reaction,” Jeina mentioned as they walked.

  Rokaa nodded, finding her choice of words amusing. “I’m not sure what to expect. I hope it isn’t too violent.”

  “No such luck if Syrok is playing. She’s been known for bathing in her victims’ blood,” she mentioned.

  Rokaa paused, glancing at her. “That’s concerning.”

  “Syrok is quit a brutal fighter,” Santurra mentioned. She took Rokaa by the arm, leading him away. “Your first game? How exciting. You must join us tomorrow to watch.”

  “Us?” Rokaa questioned.

  Santurra took a glass of wine from a passing waiter and used it to point to Lord Sidoc Wyice, who happened to be talking to someone in the corner of the room.

  “You’ve met Lord Wyice, I’m sure,” she mentioned.

  “I haven’t had the honor,” Rokaa replied eloquently yet with hesitation.

  “Come, come now. We must introduce you. He’s quite the genius, you know,” she insisted, herding him towards the Lord if he wanted to or not.

  Santurra hurried him over to a Lord wearing a long black cloak to match his long hair. Beside his stood a dark green skinned man, several inches shorter than the Lord. His hair was also black and kept in thin, corn rowed braids.

  “Gentlemen, may I introduce Marnet Rokaa Desvin from the Rook Empire. Marnet, this is my cousin, Master Waar Hiylenveer and my good friend Lord Sidoc Wyice,” the Cassaus introduced.

  “Marnet,” Waar began by shaking his hand. “What brings you here to Clovucutte?”

  “My Uncle, the Rook Emperor, insisted I come visit our new friends,” Rokaa mentioned.

  Lord Wyice scoffed. “Friends? You’re Narkoy, if I remember correctly?” he mentioned.

  “Part. My father was the Narkoy Ambassador to Juvin-que,” Rokaa said.

  “And the Marisheio killed all Narkoy,” Lord Wyice pointed out.

  “Sidoc!” Santurra snipped.

  Rokaa pawed away the comment. “That’s history. My alliance is with the Rook, not Narkoy. If it were with the Narkoy, I wouldn’t be alive right now, would I?” he joked.

  “Right,” Lord Wyice smirked.

  “I invited our young Rook friend to join us to watch the games tomorrow. It’s his first time in attendance,” Santurra mentioned.

  Lord Wyice looked Rokaa up and down, smirking. “Well… this should prove entertaining. Be sure to bring your own bucket.” He bowed to Santurra. “Cassaus,” he said the motioned to Waar to follow him.

  “Bucket?” Rokaa questioned.

  “He thinks you’ll have a week stomach.” She paused, examining him. “You are quite young for this type of assignment,” she mentioned.

  “I’m eighteen, my lady,” Rokaa returned.

  She raised an amused eyebrow. “Interesting your uncle would allow you to travel here. It could be dangerous for you,” she mentioned.

  “Am I in danger?” he asked seriously.

  She smiled devilishly. “A young man like you? I do have an interest in young men. On occasion one or two have disappeared without a trace. But you have nothing to worry about,” she admitted, ending in a flirtatious wink.

  “Uh…” Rokaa gulped hard. “I better, uh,” he pointed over to the refreshment table. He rushed off, nearly falling over his feet to get away.

  The Cassaus chuckled to herself as Jeina approached. “He is a peculiar specimen, isn’t he?” she asked Jeina.

  “The Marnet?” Jeina asked. She watched him from afar as he attempted to talk to anyone who would listen to him. “He’s young and trying to find his place in the galaxy. I say he’s a man torn between two worlds.”

  The Cassaus nodded. “Keep an eye on him. Befriend him. He was once engaged to a Narkoy girl. There’s more here than he’s telling us,” she mentioned.

  “Yes, Cassaus,” Jeina said with a bow.

  ___

  By the time Danstu had come to a stopping point with his paperwork, the outside light globe had already dimmed for the evening. He glanced over at his com monitor, surprised that no one had called for the past six hours. The only thing on his com board was a message from Lolum that said: “Come to level ten, when you have a moment.”

  “Computer, where is Lolum Rovantas?” he asked.

  “Gathow, level ten,” the computer returned.

  “Huh, okay.” He stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his seat and slipped it on. It still felt tight. Before he could forget again, he sent Lerrina a quick note to order him another size then headed out the door.

  Outside in the main office, everyone had left for the day. It was eerily quiet save for the cleaning orbs that were fast at work dusting and vacuuming.

  As he walked down the hall, he noticed a light on and a door slightly ajar. He tapped on the door and it opened wider. It was the office of Matt Sharuun, Gathow’s head of public relations.

  The blond, thin human glanced up from his desk, surprised to see Danstu. “Chisarel, you’re up rather late.”

  “I usually am. How are those photos coming along?” he asked the man.

  Sharuun held one image up of Sedom that looked a little too over embellished. “It’s not easy, but I figure out a way. I am getting some backlash from the Dormins. They’re insisting on seeing her outside more.”

  “Even if she was here, she seldom leaves Gathow,” Danstu mentioned. “Once she returns, I
’ll talk to her about allowing you to take more images and interviews.”

  “I’ve heard rumors, sir. Is she alright?” he asked.

  Danstu glanced back to the door, not wanting to give an answer yet. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  ___

  Crowds in the arena’s stands cheered all around them as Rokaa followed the Cassaus to her private box. “They frown on public displays of violence on Juvin-que,” Rokaa mentioned to the Cassaus as they approached their seats.

  Lord Wyice was already sitting in his seat, his eyes glued to a computer pad. He shot Rokaa a belittling smirk. “They don’t know what they’re missing,” he said.

  The Cassaus sat in the middle seat then motioned for Rokaa to take the seat to her left. “I hear we’re in for a treat today. We’ve imported new players from Cariou for this game. With much appreciation from Lord Wyice,” she mentioned, motioning to the Lord as a sign of her gratitude.

  “Lord Wyice.” Rokaa bowed slightly, amusing the Lord. “Lord Wyice, I wasn’t aware you dabbled in the games,” Rokaa mentioned.

  “I invest from time to time,” the Lord admitted.

  “He has a bit of a gambling addiction,” the Cassaus whispered to Rokaa. Lord Wyice ignored her.

  The crowd grew louder with the sounds of cheers as Sedom entered the arena. To Rokaa’s surprise, Sedom was clothed only in a white jumpsuit and no armor.

  “She’s a child,” Rokaa mentioned, horrified at the sight of Sedom standing alone in the arena with nothing to use to protect herself.

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Lord Wyice scoffed. “When I watched her the other day, she ripped off the head of a fairly large Zalmin man and tossed it at me,” he mentioned.

  Rokaa leaned forward to look at Lord Wyice. “Ripped of a head? Do you know how much strength that takes?” he questioned.

  “Shush!” Santurra barked. She pointed to the opposite side of the arena where two over-developed Choli men were rushing from.

  Sedom spun in the direction of the two men, her eyes mere slits as she watched them approach. Both men carried heavy hammers and swung them with verbosity as they approached.