Star Chaser- The Traveler

by Reiter

  “Shay-spawn,” he chuckled. “I tell you it has been some time since I learned so much from a student. He has words for the term, just as I am sure he would have a very strong opinion on what he’d like to do to all of you.

  “And it’s too bad for your people, High Judge,” Nugar added just after his computer started giving off bleep signals. “… you know, that your precious Preceptor is not everywhere in this domicile!” Nugar started cackling as Bothrynn consulted his computer. After he hit a few buttons slowly, his eyes flashed with surprise and concern. He hit a few more buttons.

  “Sacred stars!” the High Judge gasped, looking in all directions. “I’m reading fatalities! The men I brought with me … they are dying!” The lights in the corridor began to dim slightly as the sound of capacitors charging echoed all around the domicile. “And now I am reading a power build up that is already above scanner reading levels.”

  “It’s an automated response,” Talkurra advised. “Whatever you did to Nugar registered as damaging enough to trigger a self-destruct mechanism.”

  “What is the source of the destructive wave?” Isak asked. “I shall contend with it.”

  “I will say once more that this is a Traveler!” Talkurra said in an elevated tone. “The first blasts will no doubt vent these corridors to the Void and you will not be able to contend with anything! We must take our leave!”

  “Fine, but we will not lose the spoils of this encounter,” Isak said as he walked over and grabbed Nugar by the face, encasing the Traveler’s body in a light that burned against his skin. Nugar moaned in pain as he was lifted from the floor. “We will bring you along and see if prolonged exposure to our talents might loosen your tongue!”

  With a wide-swinging arc made at shoulder level, Isak generated several bursts of light that soon became the Warriors Bothrynn had brought with him, the dead and the living. Another arc summoned the bodies from the infirmary and Isak turned his glowing eyes to Nugar as he lifted hand above his head. One final burst of light started at Isak’s palm but quickly increased to cover every gathered body in the corridor. As it grew over each of the people in the corridor, Nugar drew his Osamu and threw it down the corridor. By the time the light reached its greatest luminescence, the Osamu rolled to an abrupt stop about three meters outside the edge of the Invoker’s light. When the light faded, Dungias became visible and looked at the Osamu that was at his feet.

  “Computer, disable the self-destruct,” he commanded, squatting to pick up the discarded weapon.

  “Self-destruct sequence has been aborted,” the computer reported.

  “Use the collected energy to purge the landing pad used by the Jagged Kraythe. Engage drives at maximum velocity to acquire secondary holding position.” Dungias managed to keep his stance as the corridor jostled to one side. He ran his hand down the length of the Osamu before pressing the only flashing light on the device.

  “Engines are already engaged,” the computer notified. “Estimated time to arrival: 2.639 star-terms.” Dungias smiled at the resourcefulness of his teacher and friend. “Landing circle has been purged. One fixed iro-form signature was removed.”

  “The acquired officer from Gavis Station,” Dungias mentioned. “Is he still here?”

  “He tends to the hydroponics farms,” the computer replied.

  “Consolidate all interviews and interrogations with the most recent prisoner logged at this domicile and have him brought to the Gamma Chamber,” Dungias ordered as he started for his room.

  “Records consolidated,” the computer advised. “Prisoner is now out of sleep-cycle and will be teleported. Please note, the prisoner has been fitted with an inhibitor.”

  “Disengage the device before he is sent to the Gamma Chamber,” Dungias ordered. “And I can anticipate you wish to warn me against taking such measures. Add to the record that the perspective had been considered and your processes need not be held in question or error.”

  “Acknowledged,” the computer replied. “Record has been updated and this system appreciates your consideration.”

  “You have been faithful and reliable to Nugar,” Dungias stated. “I plan to be the same!” Dungias entered commands into his computer, directing the computer to use all of its available resources to lock on and track Nugar. He then ordered the computer to ready the multi-passenger ship which would be most capable of a journey from that location back to the domicile. Speed was listed as the primary concern.

  Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.

  Mahatma Gandhi

  Dungias threw a second cup of water into the operative’s face, placing the cup he used on the tray and advancing toward his subject. He then drew his pistol and fired into Liorr’s leg. Suddenly the shivering cold of the dimly lit room was inconsequential to the bound man.

  “That might have seemed cruel and shallow,” Dungias said he holstered his weapon and reached toward the tray again. He picked up the injector and gave his subject a dose of medicine to address the burning sensation his weapon had delivered. “But you are unaware of a few facts.

  “One such fact is that this is my training facility,” Dungias explained as Liorr looked around the large storage room. “I have been pushed to many limits in this room. I doubt that they were able to clean up all the blood my body has given to this space. In order to know when to stop punishing me, certain readers were installed to monitor my body’s systems. Those readers are now trained on you, Sub-Commander Shudal Zal Liorr. I am monitoring your brain and iro-form activity. While you wanted it to look as if you were suffering greatly from the inhibitor, you are stronger than you would have me believe.” Dungias removed the injector and turned to replace the device. With his back to Liorr, his Osamu smacked hard against the right leg Liorr had sent forward to catch Dungias’ head in a leg-scissoring choking lock. His left hand blocked the left leg, and Liorr grunted in pain as the restraints were pulled taut. He hung over the floor for a moment before putting his left foot to the ground to support his weight. “That was beneath your position,” Dungias said in a cold tone. “And in that I mean the position of one who has been educated and is at least conscious. Desperation only delays me.”

  “I am not frightened of you, boy!” Liorr proclaimed.

  “That is only because I have failed to impress upon you the limits I am willing to embrace to have my questions answered,” Dungias advised. “That will soon change.”

  “I will tell you nothing!”

  “Another lie, Sub-Commander,” Dungias said. “Already you have told me something significant: you have assumed that you know something I would want to know. Otherwise you would have claimed you had nothing of worth to say to me. That would have been the wiser ploy, by the way.

  “But enough of this tangent conversation,” Dungias continued, setting the injector back in the machine that would refill the device and sterilize the application point. “Why?” he asked, turning to face Liorr again.

  “Why what?” Liorr countered and Dungias drew his pistol again. “Wait! WAIT!!!” Liorr begged. “I do not understand what you mean!”

  “Why did they send you after me?” Dungias clarified, showing absolutely no change in his face or voice. He stared into the eyes of the Sub-Commander and fired into the man’s right leg, near the same point his Osamu had struck the bone. The man wailed in pain, pulling against restraints that gave no sign of loosening or breaking. Dungias fired again, striking the same leg and hitting closer to the bone. “You do realize that after a very short while the medicine will keep you alive, but your leg will cease to function. I will simply move to the other leg, and your agony will endure.”

  Liorr looked into the eyes of the youth once more, searching for the thread that would give him some sort of advantage, the slimmest margin of hope. The gold eyes that stared back at him were colder than the ones that belonged to his instructor. These eyes did not waver, and in the pit of their glare was the resolve that Liorr was already dead. It was simply a m
atter of what could be gained from him before that happened.

  “It was ordered,” Liorr admitted. “The action was ordered.”

  Dungias blinked as he swallowed, squinted his eyes and nodded once. He turned and walked over to the service tray, removing two iro-form probes and a capacitor. He shoved a probe into the open wounds and turned the switch of the capacitor. Liorr’s head snapped back as he screamed louder than he had ever in life.

  “Yes, I would think that would be most uncomfortable,” Dungias said as he started keying in commands. “But that is power coming from the capacitor alone. I am now opening the channel for the emitters in this room to feed the unit.”

  “For the love of the Stars–”

  “There are no Stars shining on me, Sub-Commander! I am shay-spawn, remember?!” Dungias activated the feed, but for the briefest of moments. The current was enough to lock Liorr’s body, and he could not even breathe to scream. When Dungias deactivated the device, Liorr’s body collapsed. Dungias smirked as he depressed a button on his arm-top computer. A charge flowed through the restraints and Liorr grunted as the iro-form capacity he was holding was released into the ceiling. “I will reiterate, I am monitoring your brain and iro-form activity. Simply because you cannot see the readout monitor does not mean I cannot see it.”

  “I have told you it was ordered. The First Princess gave the order.”

  “And why would anyone engage the services of a mercenary?” Dungias asked. The inhibitor had managed to one thing: lock the conscious mind. While he had been a captive for orbi-terms, performing the lowliest of chores in the facility, for Liorr, he had been held only a few star-terms. It had not been that long for him since Nugar had run his course of interrogation, asking many of the same questions. Either the two had not yet shared in the information or they had discovered he had lied to Nugar. The Master Traveler had been jovial and had never broken from that form. The near machine-like persona of his current taskmaster had struck much closer to the psyche of the man, creating fear in Liorr... a fear that flashed in his eyes. “I thought as much,” Dungias concluded and Liorr closed his eyes in defeat. “So, you are not even Mal-Vin. You simply act like them, adopt their swagger and anyone who is the wiser is either killed or removed.”

  “This gains you nothing,” Liorr claimed. Dungias was walking away from him when he spoke, and his words made the youth stop and place the sending unit on the floor. He turned to face Liorr and shook his head.

  “You are a credit-minded fool, and completely unworthy of any aid, but you shall receive it nonetheless. I have gained a great deal,” Dungias claimed. “Let us look at the incredibly obvious. You were sent by First Princess Sryla. But why would someone of Royal influence send mercenaries when she has a militia she could call upon? Answer, because she must keep the matter, and the existence of the matter, controlled. How can she trust shay-spawn to find and capture a fellow shay-spawn after he has seen his Vu-Prin through the a championship at the Iro-Games?!” Dungias did not miss the poorly suppressed laughter coming from Liorr. “So, it was not a capture order. I was to be killed.

  “But back to the incredibly obvious,” Dungias said as he picked up the sending unit and sent a charge into Liorr’s body. The man screamed in pain, but it was quickly overtaken by his frustration.

  “You aren’t looking anywhere!” Liorr cried, pulling at his restraints furiously. “Where is this damned reading device?!”

  “You are trying your best to lie to it,” Dungias revealed. He cut his eyes back to Liorr and once again caught a reaction that Liorr would have preferred to keep to himself… again, it was fear. After all, how could a shay-spawn detect iro-form flow inside another form? Such a thing was impossible… was it not? “Perhaps now we can make some progress… what say we make this more conversational?”

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  “And yet another chamber I have discovered in my life,” Dungias whispered. It was a most curious feeling for him. He did not know if he was pleased with his performance in dealing with the captured Malgovi mercenary, or if he was just hopeful for the outcome of his latest misadventure. “Just how many rooms will I find in this dwelling? And after finding as many as I have, what am I telling myself, in that I am apparently still searching?”

  Dungias sat in the confined space without making a sound. His mind was not racing from point to point to point; it was focused, like the edge of a finely-honed blade or the point at the end of a shaft of light. The small chamber rocked a bit, and he leaned back as momentum gave a slight push forward. The two forces canceled out and Dungias’ seat positioning remained relatively unchanged. With only two more turns left in his flight path, he checked his gloves and boots. He looked over the form-fitting black material and smiled at the resourcefulness of his mentor and friend. It had taken Dungias nearly a third of a star-term to rifle through Nugar’s inventory and begin formulating his plan. At several points the Malgovi youth had considered making the most of the items he discovered and abandoning his most immediate quest.

  “And that brings up an interesting point,” Dungias thought as the lights activated on the device he was using as a chair, and it started going through operational diagnostics. “Have I abandoned my quest of knowledge in this errand? But I suppose that is rhetorical at best – the very next inquiry that comes to mind is, ‘Does it matter?’ when I already know it does not. I cannot forge the road ahead while abandoning the man who brought me to the path. I suppose I will have the answer in the star-terms to come, or much sooner, should I perish in this quest!” The seams were checked; they were locked and holding. Dungias took in a deep breath before donning the mask, checking the seam-locks for it as thoroughly. The pack on his back was lifted from the material and reset before he fastened the straps around his ribs and shoulders. The straps around his wrists, forearms, arms, shoulders, neck, thighs, shins and ankles were also checked. Everything seemed to be in order and ready to function.

  The bay doors opened and Dungias hopped down to the sturdy wing of the flightcraft. He walked over to the arm-top computer he had assembled at the beginning of the star-term, just a few short s’tonki ago. It was not a very sophisticated system, but he did not need it to be. He depressed a button and the one stored program was initiated. A simple countdown clock flashed three times across the monitor. When it stopped flashing, it started counting down from three tonki and forty-eight tanku. Dungias then jumped and allowed his body to drop down through the sky.

  The cool night air gave Dungias a rough reception and he tumbled on the harsh winds without any semblance of control. He closed his eyes and remembered his training, extending his left arm from his body and sending his right hand forward. Dungias then leaned into his left shoulder and rolled over only once more before he had control of his descent, and his eyes opened. Dungias quickly changed his form and put his hands against the sides of his legs. The winds were still cool and strong, but they seemed to roll around him more than they pushed against his face and chest. He was flying through them as he leaned forward, increasing his speed while decreasing his altitude. His goggles told him the speed at which he was falling, his current coordinates, and his directional vectors. With his fall controlled and his body slipping into the stream between the winds, Dungias tucked his head to his chin and watched the readout of his speed continue to increase.

  “Tremulan City,” Dungias thought, coming through the clouds. The lights of the capital city were beneath him and he marveled at the smallest of the three Vinthur megacities. He was still high enough to where he could see the boundary points of the city. He leaned enough to his right to alter course and face the lower left corner of the First Quadrant. “Wings,” he commanded, sending his thoughts into the band around his head underneath the mask. His hands came away from the sides of his body with glider wings made of black coherent light. Another flap formed between his legs as Dungias parted them. He maintained his speed, but he was no longer falling. He was the flat rock skipping over the surface of the po
nd. “Not too much longer now, Kwinsoah,” he thought as his mind took only a swift moment to think of Nugar.

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  Talkurra did not like cities. They were great places to land, refuel, repair and relax. Depending on the complexity of the circumstance, all of that could be done inside a single s’tonki if one was pressed. But she had been forced to remain in Tremulan City for seven star-terms. “Which is ten star-terms too long,” she thought as she was rolled over on her back. “But how does one tell the K’Dalkian Council ‘no’? It looks as if Nugar has found a way to do that very thing… and look at what it is costing him. Damn fool!

  “Look,” Talkurra said as she grabbed the hair of her dedicated lover, lifting his face up from his work. “I do not doubt your intentions, but you have been panting all over me with nothing to show for it.”

  “I have had the pleasure of your company,” he replied, flashing a very handsome smile. Talkurra took hold of his face and used her arms and legs in concert to move him up to where he was lying on top of her body. She looked into his eyes before pressing her lips hard against his. Her lover was obviously surprised and mumbled a very brief protest as the passion of her kiss swept over him. He decided to reciprocate and was soon moaning in euphoria. When their lips parted, his puckered and sought her mouth.

  “That was for what might be the most shallow compliment any man has ever given me,” Talkurra said before thinking for a moment. “No, that would be the most shallow anyone has ever given me. Go spend time with someone who wants and needs your company.”

  “But I have my orders,” the comely man argued, still smiling.

  “Put your hand under my pillow,” Talkurra directed, smiling up at her consort. He smiled in response and did as he was told. His smile faded as he heard a click after touching something that felt like a gun. He started to pull his hand away when Talkurra hugged him closer so he could not move. “Easy, easy, easy… you move too quickly and it will be the last move you make. You just touched the gun of a Traveler. That gun has seen more star systems than you have in your dreams. It also has a defense mechanism for when someone else besides me touches it.