Uprising of the Exiled (Splintered Galaxy Book 2)

by Eddie R. Hicks

  The microgravity of the moon forced Jazz to walk like the astronauts during the first moon landing, as he pursued his target down a dark corridor. Hashmedai hustlers chirped loud and hard in an attempt to move products off their tables to would-be buyers. A set of stairs led the Hashmedai he was following down to the lower level and into a connecting corridor on the left, exactly where Veloshira predicted.

  They entered an enormous room littered with large white-and-gray cubes laid before the two. Little did the Hashmedai man know that Jazz stalked his every step under the cover of his personal cloaking device, creating a blurry distortion field. Fortunately, the lighting was dim enough that even a good pair of eyes would have a hard time figuring out that a stealth person was present. The maze of cargo containers seemed never ending to Jazz as he followed and moved behind him. Finally, his movement stopped. Jazz did the same and then analyzed the situation unfolding.

  Two Hashmedai men stepped forward from the shadows. Jazz’s mind didn’t recognize one of them, but the other man? Yellow glowing eyes, gray hair, creamy skin—it was Captain Leinuo, Hashmedai deserter from the invasion of Earth—Jazz and Veloshira’s primary target.

  “I got eyes on Leinuo; cargo hold, like you said,” Jazz whispered into his communicator.

  “I’m almost there,” Veloshira transmitted back.

  Jazz’s semi-invisible hands reached inside his coat. Four cold metallic disk-shaped objects fell into the palms of his hands, disk traps. As the three Hashmedai talked, Jazz placed each disk in a circular pattern around them. His finger tapped a button on his wrist strap computer interface. The invisible traps emitted a faint hum, signaling to him that they were armed and ready while he ascended to the top of a nearby cargo container.

  His eyes glared down at the three Hashmedai, who were now visibly frustrated with one another. Guess their deal fell through, Jazz thought, while he obtained a foldable plasma rifle that he concealed beneath his black coat. The rectangular-shaped objected unfolded four times, releasing a four-second hissing noise while the sound of its mechanical joints snapped together.

  “Avearan!” shouted the green-haired Hashmedai whom Jazz had followed. “Show the good captain here why you don’t waste my time!”

  Jazz’s finger hovered just above the trigger as he saw a young woman stepping out from behind a cargo container. She wore a long dress and a small, loose-fitting halter top, revealing a network of cybernetic implants between her breasts and across her belly. A psionic, she was going after his target. His paycheck. Fuck.

  Jazz’s cloak became disabled, freeing up battery strength for his rifle to power up and fire. The battery transferred wirelessly between the two. And what a fiery display it unleashed, briefly lighting the dimly lit room with flashes of green as plasma balls rained down on the Hashmedai below, sending everyone running to cover. One trap disk activated, covering that psionic Avearan in a blue glowing stasis net. Two more were triggered, sending a strong restricting shield to freeze Leinuo and his companion.

  The psionic quickly became a concerning sight; this was the first time Jazz had trapped one with these devices. Psionic shields can usually resist the effects of the stasis net. She obviously didn’t have hers active at the time, or it just wasn’t strong enough. This made Jazz wonder if her psionic mind was powerful enough to break free and release her. His pondering came to an unexpected end as the green-haired man removed his jacket as if he were some kind of damn superhero. Underneath the jacket was his bare body, augmented with psionic cybernetics.

  “Well…Fuck,” muttered Jazz in English.

  “I hear weapons’ fire. Are you OK?” communicated Veloshira.

  The green-haired psionic levitated toward the ceiling while his cybernetics released a bright glow of blue light. “No!” shouted Jazz as he leaped off the container.

  His body glided to the floor like a piece of paper falling from the sky. Upon landing, he made a tactical retreat behind a cargo container. Seconds later, he felt the wave of intense heat from exploding white fireballs falling next to him. Jazz’s body once again faded into a distortion field at the push of a large button his wrist strap. Perfect timing. The psionic came to hover directly above Jazz. Jazz looked up to see his head reposition about but did nothing else before floating toward another cluster of cargo to do the same.

  Jazz’s semiweightless feet carried him back to the source of the fiasco. Leinuo and his partner remained frozen within the grip of the stasis net along with the other psionic, Avearan. Not that she was of any importance. Leinuo, however—his head was where the money was at. Jazz reappeared, armed with his secondary weapon, a plasma sword shaped like katana. A swift cleave from Jazz’s green glowing blade delivered the desired results. As Leinuo’s beheaded body fell to the floor, another figure emerged from the shadows.

  “Beat you to it,” said Jazz to the figure being his partner Veloshira.

  Veloshira’s glowing orange eyes stared down at the now dead Hashmedai captain briefly, before rising up toward Jazz. “For once,” she said.

  “So what about him?” Jazz said while aiming his blade toward Leinuo’s partner.

  “He means nothing to us.”

  “Good,” he said while thrusting his blade through the Hashmedai’s chest, causing the stasis net to dissipate upon detecting no signs of life within its victim. Jazz’s hands started a frantic search through the man’s clothes, namely his pockets. That data crystal had to be here…Somewhere.

  “We’ve got to go,” said Veloshira.

  “Just a second,” Jazz said. His fingers felt a diamond-shaped object in the back pouch. That had to be it.

  Just then, Veloshira’s hand gripped Jazz’s shoulder, jolting it hard. “No, we really need to go right now.”

  “What is it?” he asked, following her line of sight forward, toward where that female psionic was neutralized…Oh fuck.

  As his hand took the data crystal, his head reluctantly turned around to face what Veloshira was staring at. He saw two psionics, the green-haired one and Avearan; the female one float above. It looked like psionics could break free of the stasis net. Either that or her body got her out while they were distracted. It didn’t matter now. The psionic duo clasped hands together, causing it to glow orange.

  Veloshira and Jazz vanished from sight, seeking refuge at the far corner off the cargo hold. Their escape caused them to narrowly avoid the flaming hellfire rain from the angry duo psionic.

  … … …

  ►►Transport Ship, Morutrin asteroid belt

  ► Morutrin System

  The transition from low gravity to zero gravity was seamless, and somewhat relaxing. A psionic getting the drop on you in a situation like that rarely ended well. Two of them? You better have a well-timed exit plan. Veloshira did a fine job of that by “borrowing” the good captain’s transport ship that he used to dock at that that moon—what did they call it? Yovinrok?

  Small asteroids began to populate the blackness of space, seen from the forward window of the transport. This was a sign that they were on course toward the inner planets of the Morutrin system and a sign that they’d have to listen to two more hours of the engine’s faint hum and the random beep of the transport’s scanners, warning of the presence of Radiance Union ships at the edge of the system. Ships that wouldn’t do a damn thing as long as the Hashmedai ships making their rounds were nearby.

  Fifteen minutes later, humming and computer sounds continued. Neither of the two said a word, just as he expected. “So.” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “How long will it be for the Assassins’ Guild to award us for this mission?” Pointless chitchat, the only way to remind her that he’s not just some alien. He’s her partner in crime.

  “Quickly, I hope,” Veloshira said as her pale hands danced across the computer terminal. “This is the sixth deserter we ended in the last month.” She paused while gazing up toward the ceiling. “No one else in the guild has had this much success.”

  “Real
ly?”

  “Yes, and keep in mind, we are of the nonpsionic class of assassins. We are considered weaker and less likely to succeed.”

  She had a point. Jazz seen firsthand what psionic assassins were able to do, back during the invasion of Earth. And as he recalled, the concept of nonpsionics being recruited into the Assassins’ Guild was a new program that was created during his cryo sleep from Earth to the Hashmedai Empire. There just weren’t enough Hashmedai psionics going around.

  With that said…

  “They should fix us with a bigger reward, then,” Jazz concluded.

  “Agreed—never mind the fact that I am still training you,” Veloshira said. “Master-and-apprentice teams typically take on smaller tasks so as not to overwhelm the new recruit.”

  The data crystal Jazz stole earlier floated out from his unsealed chest pocket. Veloshira glanced at it with a puzzled look on her face, stroking her weightless hand across the top of her white bobbed hair.

  “A Radiance data crystal?” she asked.

  “Yep, homeboy had it.”

  “Why would a Hashmedai carry such a thing?”

  Because he’s working for the Celestial Order, was what Jazz wanted to say. But Veloshira was still an outsider when it came to knowledge of that shadowy organization. For all he knew, she too could be secretly working for it. He had spent the last year looking into this group without an assassin’s blade being pushed into his guts. He’d like to keep it that way.

  “Well this is Morutrin,” he said. “Radiance and Hashmedai stuff tends to mesh.” Playing the role of someone who doesn’t know any better.

  “Those two weren’t here that long.” She wasn’t born yesterday, that’s for damn sure.

  A few minutes later, her hands unbuckled the seat belt that held her petite body in place. She slowly floated upward, away from her chair, before launching her body toward the back. Her black skirt and long trench coat outfit waved as she kicked and swam through.

  “What’s up?” Jazz asked.

  “I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s hope they had rations stored back here.”

  “All I ever see you eat is fucking rations, girl,” Jazz said, keeping his eyesight toward the window. Her body was still in a horizontal position, judging by the reflection. “When was the last time you had something that had to be cooked?”

  “This is Morutrin; everyone uses currency to acquire things…Including food.”

  “So?”

  “I’m Hashmedai; we have no use for such a system.”

  Slave labor, forced careers, it wasn’t a system he agreed with. But it allowed the Hashmedai people to live in a society where money was not needed. Unless they lived in Morutrin—then the Radiance way of capitalism came into play.

  “That’s the problem; we’ve been operating within this star system for almost a year now. If you’re going to be living out in these parts, you need to have money to survive.” He saw the reflection of her body becoming vertical. “Hence, why I always request my reward for assassinations to be in the form of credit chits, I know the empire has a stockpile of them lying around—you know—since it’s useless.”

  And because they looted it from Radiance cities they razed or people in the Morutrin system, the Assassins’ Guild wanted to disappear. Which reminded Jazz, he never checked to see if Leinuo or his companion had credit chits.

  Veloshira launched her body back toward Jazz with three silver-colored packets in her hands. As she approached Jazz, she flicked one package toward him; it hurled and spun, slamming into his forehead. Her laughter caused her hair to wave about aimlessly.

  “Eat it,” she said as she tried to suppress her laughs. “You haven’t consumed anything in the last four hours. And it will be two hours or so by the time we get to Morutrin Prime.”

  “You sound like my mother,” Jazz said, reaching his hand forward to grab the silver package floating away from him.

  Her laughs finally subsided, giving her the chance to speak clearly. “That’s because I am one, now eat.”

  His hands ripped away at the silver packaging, revealing what lay inside, dehydrated meat, by the looks. “You ever had Rabuabin food before?” he asked.

  “I have not.”

  “Good, there’s a Rabuabin restaurant close to where I’m staying. I’m meeting up with some friends there. You should join us.” His teeth bit down into the hard piece of meaty leather. “And have some real food for once!”

  … … …

  ►►Morutrin Prime

  ► Morutrin System

  The two-hour journey finally concluded, indicated by Veloshira’s fist jabbing Jazz in the shoulder. His eyes sprung open instantly to the sight of the massive planet out the forward window. A brief light show of red heat waves danced on the rippling blue effect of the transport’s shields, as they descended toward the planet’s surface, more specifically the southernmost continent.

  The darkness of space became the golden skies of a luscious cloud-free sunset. Port Shala, an enormous metropolis, appeared as the transport quickly closed the distance between it and the surface. Rectangular skyscrapers extended high in the skies, many of them towering over the nearby mountain the city was built next to. The shadows and lights emitting from the skyline reflected off the ocean directly south.

  Jazz was so caught up in the imagery that he failed to notice gravity was once again back in the transport. And the fact that Veloshira was trying to ask him an important question.

  “Jazz?”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Which landing port?”

  “Right,” he said as the orange glow from the sunset faded away from the transport’s cockpit. The hulking skyline they flew in between blocked it out from view. “Use port seven, seven, eight.”

  Her fingers inputted the course into the terminal, and the transport made a right turn in between a cluster of larger buildings. Directly in front lay a large landing pad on top of an immense cube-shaped structure. “Home sweet home,” Jazz said in English.

  Veloshira’s boots splashed through a large puddle just outside where she parked the transport. Must have been raining earlier today, Jazz thought as he stepped out of the transport. The humid air outside felt blissful, warming Jazz’s body up from the icy temperatures inside the transport.

  “So.” she said, turning back to face Jazz, “when are you seeing your friends?”

  “This time tomorrow perhaps. I’m going to head to my place to relax for a few.”

  “Good, that will give me plenty of time to contact the guild rep here to let them know we finished this mission.” She continued her walk toward the elevator. “If you can’t contact me, then go without me.”

  “Do your best to be free,” he shouted toward her as her body slid away behind the sliding doors of the elevator. “Because god knows you need friends.” he whispered to himself.

  … … …

  ►► Port Shala, Morutrin Prime

  ► Morutrin System

  High-rise buildings became a standard within old Linl worlds and in much of the Radiance Union. Houses were quite rare and often discouraged from being constructed, as you can’t fit a lot of people within such a small space. Due to the nature of space travel, those who work in space typically left their homes dormant for decades while they conducted business or worked in their space baseline of work. Any given condo had at least 30 percent of its suites idle, as those who lived there were spacers.

  The soft hissing sound of the elevator’s sliding doors caused Jazz’s wandering mind to return to reality. That being the rapid transit platform connected to the midsection of the docking platform. The transit platform rested on top of an overhanging balcony, providing a breathtaking view of the city’s skyline from a lower angle. A network of raised glass tunnels floating in the air housed all trains while in transit. As he stepped into the designated waiting area, he could hear the sounds of an uncountable number of trams screeching across the city like racecars making another lap on the track.r />
  An overbooked tram decelerated before him as its doors opened wide to begin an exchange of riders and patiently waiting platform passengers such as Jazz. A soft computer-generated noise beep emitted, indicating that the immediate shutting of the sliding doors was soon. The tram sped off into the nearby glass tunnel while the dark golden light of the setting sun baked the exterior of it.

  Every damn seat taken, Jazz thought as he stood shoulder to shoulder among Linl and Hashmedai passengers. Just about every inch of space from the entrance to the main walkway had someone standing in it. Even alien transit trains were jam-packed like the TTC subways back in Toronto. Hell, the whole experience was borderline similar. Just replace humans with Linl and Hashmedai, cell phones and newspapers with data pads and holographic windows, and dark underground tunnels with a tram that commuted at the midlevel of big-ass skyscrapers. At least there was no need to hold on to a handlebar; inertia dampers kept everyone still during the high-speed race through the tunnels and sudden stops at stations.

  An automated computer voiced the location of the next stop, Block twenty-five ninety. A large skyscraper that branched off into three separate towers about 60 or 70 percent of the way up was where he stood after getting off. For the last year, Jazz called this building, home.

  And it felt good to be back.

  He took the minimalist approach to laying out his suite. Like the other 30 percent or so of people living in this high-rise dwelling, he was a spacer. While most of the work he’d done thus far had been exclusively within the Morutrin system, it was only a matter of time before he had to branch out to someplace on the ass end of the galaxy. Or perhaps back to Earth. With that said, why bother having a fancy place if it’s going to remain untouched for several decades. Table, storage cabinet, and a comfortable sofa were all he needed in the main area. Beyond the glass sliding door off to the left was the bedroom, and even that had the bare minimum, a bed and a clothing cabinet. Nothing more, nothing less.

  A wave of cold air hit Jazz hard as he stepped into the threshold of his home up on the 149th floor. As comforting as it was, considering it must have been close to forty-eight degrees centigrade outside, this was too cold. He sighed, releasing white mist from his mouth before stepping toward his Linl-designed sofa. Swift strokes from his fingers across his wrist pad sent a disengage signal to his black assassin’s armor. The suit powered down and shredded away from his muscular dark body; only an undershirt and boxers remained. The temperature needed to be changed soon before his sweat-drenched body turned into a shivering one.