Timberwolf

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Timberwolf Page 6

by Tom Julian


  It certainly wasn’t where she wanted to be. She had been first in her class and had hoped to pursue a career in the Judge Advocate General arm of the Station Corps and become an investigator; go after the very corruption and incompetence she was taking part in on a daily basis. She sensed something really big was happening here, a lot bigger than that Glox freighter still waiting ten clicks out. Salla needed to be a part of it.

  Timberwolf came out of the infirmary and saw her there. The way he nodded his head for her to follow him told her he was impressed she waited. “Vice, I’m leaving with him. This hour. Get the box from my quarters aboard the Nina.”

  “Hell no,” she responded. Timberwolf stared through her. She didn’t look away.

  “That wasn’t healthy.”

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Listen, you’re not an idiot like Drogel. I get out of here with our little friend and you can forget about me. If you get wrapped up in this…”

  “You’re with the Department of Peace Enforcement,” she interrupted, almost accusing him.

  “No shit, I’m D.P.E. I don’t have a lot of time.” He pulled his smart-device from his pocket and began scanning for a signal.

  “You keep the religious crazies from taking us back to war.”

  “We’re who goes bump in the night.” He kept moving, holding up his smart-device and trying to connect.

  “Emmanuel Gray. He’s looking for that guy, Achilles. Gray’s been trying to start up the war with the Arnock again. He’s wanted, but half the Assault Corps supports him.”

  “Stop,” Timberwolf warned her.

  “What’s it to do with Highland?” she demanded.

  “Stop!”

  “And you’re hunting him and listening for the Arnock.”

  Timberwolf put his finger to her mouth and pushed her into a corner.

  “Okay, you need to stop saying things out loud. Got into my file, huh? Listen to me. I have enough to get you locked up in some D.P.E. hush prison until you’re a sack of bones. Get the hell out of here. Cover your tracks. Trust me.” He let her go and she gasped for a second. Timberwolf instantly regretted being harsh with her. By his estimate, she was the smartest person in the sector and seemed eager to help. “Just know if Gray’s going to Highland, I’m going to stop him. I take him out and all this stops.”

  Timberwolf tried his smart-device again, finally able to get a signal. He activated the digital key generator that would allow him to send a message through to Dr. Tier. A beep of failure and the icon glowed red. He tried it again and got the same result. He tried it a third time and again it failed, the application deleting itself from his smart-device. Oh shit. There were only two reasons that could have happened. Dr. Tier could be burning him or…“My codes, they’ve been compromised. I need to send…”

  Timberwolf looked up. Drogel was there in the hall with several of Gray’s men. Salla slipped away. Timberwolf couldn’t blame her. Drogel raised a pistol.

  “Guv, you’ve made a very poor decision,” Timberwolf warned.

  “We have a mutual friend.”

  Timberwolf slowly went to his knees in surrender, hands behind his head. “You don’t even know.” Timberwolf shook his head, finding a dry laugh in his throat. “You won’t live through this.”

  Timberwolf’s words hit Drogel hard, the second time his life had been threatened in as many hours. He blinked and in that instant Timberwolf sprang forward, landing a blow to his solar plexus that dropped him, writhing. Timberwolf spun away and grabbed one of Gray’s men by his open helmet, smashing him into a bulkhead. The others hesitated a moment—this was not some amateur security guard like on Noel.

  Timberwolf had the man’s rifle and he opened fire, aiming high and raking plasma over them. The high-pitched sound of the bursts told Timberwolf he was only stinging them. They were sent to take me alive. Let’s see how that works out. He smashed one in the face with the butt of his rifle, as the first of them managed to fire back. He spun around, feeling the stings on his hip.

  Other bursts started to hit him now and more men clomped in, armored up and firing. He was surrounded and knew he couldn’t hold out much longer, but he kept shooting. He wanted to see fear in their eyes before he went down. Since they planned to take him alive, he wanted them to know that when he woke up, he would be coming to tear their heads off. He didn’t bother to crouch for cover and advanced, taking more plasma stings.

  He saw what he wanted on one man. On the front of his armor, up by the collar, it read Windwhistle, with a Believer mark wrapped around a crucifix. His face was an empty slate and his eyes were wide. Timberwolf ran at him, his rifle empty now. He dropped a knee to the front of Windwhistle’s armor, letting the pain of connecting flesh with composite surge through him. Timberwolf got his hands into Windwhistle’s helmet and choked him. From all sides now, plasma bursts struck him. Finally, one hit him near the temple and Timberwolf rolled to the deck. As he lay on the floor, a few men took potshots at him and Windwhistle rose, kicking him in the side. Then Emmanuel Gray’s face appeared above him, haloed in light. Then it was dark.

  ARNOCK PRIME

  The Arnock homeworld didn’t turn away from its red monster of a star and had no moon to give it the wobble of seasons. It was an unchanging place of brutal consistency. Without rotation, one side was a desert, constantly blasted by the sun. The other side was a frozen, jagged wasteland run through by incessant wind. The habitable part of the world existed in a thin strip where it was never either night or day. The Arnock lived there in a nameless underground hive-city that wrapped around the entire planet. They seldom traveled up to the spine of the Twilight Ridge.

  Kizik was a master, a class of Arnock with minds evolved far beyond that of the lower castes. Masters had the ability to control the thoughts and actions of others, but mostly they were philosophers and idealists that helped guide Arnock society towards its grander visions.

  The Arnock had eclipsed the need for crude verbal or written communications thousands of years before and they conversed mind-to-mind, sometimes at great distances. During the war with the humans, the masters had discovered something extraordinary in their darkest hour. They could enter the human mind invasively. This had never been possible with any other species and, initially, the thought of invading the minds of other beings against their will had sickened the masters. When the humans landed on the dark-side of their world though, it had been the only thing that held off the onslaught. The cost had been horrific. Most of the masters had been killed in the war and only a few dozen remained. Arnock warriors, workers, scientists, and others wallowed adrift and fought amongst themselves. The Arnock as a body needed to rest and recover, so Kizik had taken radical action and he put all the lower castes to sleep. He and the other masters would rebuild society while the rest of the Arnock hibernated.

  At the moment of the command from Kizik, the lower castes had spun cocoons and crawled inside wherever they were—some in their homes, some on the streets, some as they fed or bathed. It was like nothing that had ever happened in the history of the species. Arnock society was frozen in time, machines tending to the sleeping and a few dozen masters working without rest to restore their way of life.

  Kizik scuffled into what humans would call a military base. He hurried past soldiers wrapped in cocoons, clumped into groups by tending machines. Kizik made his way to a chamber that held The Vault and input the codes into the lock mechanism that would open the massive doors. Then the voices rang out in concert, unmistakably clear in Kizik’s mind.

  Stop!

  A half dozen other masters scurried in and physically pulled Kizik from the lock. These weren’t the veterans who had fought the humans coming up the Twilight Ridge. These masters had been on the home front during the war. As a group, they chastised Kizik, buzzing and shaking.

  This is not the way we had agreed to! Their minds clawed at him, with a timbre that was bitter and aggrieved.

  Kizik tried to calm them with h
is thoughts, to bring them all to the same level of understanding.

  Stop! they demanded. We will not be soothed away. Don’t insult us with the same tricks you used to butcher the humans!

  Kizik backed up. This reaction was extraordinary. He had been prepared to have to explain his actions, but hadn’t expected such hostility. Then from behind, he felt the presence of another group of masters; almost two dozen minds. These were the ones he had fought with in the wastelands above, who had taken life and felt the sting of the human’s plasma bursts and chemical lasers. The veterans only had one thought for Kizik.

  Yes. He knew he had their support to move forward with the plan.

  Kizik came forward again before the protestors. They deserved to be heard and he was obligated to explain himself. No master was above any other, but the conflict with the humans had made him the kind of leader his species had never known before—a war master. His thorax buzzed and he dropped his head. The humans are coming back. They plan to take over Highland and destroy us. They have learned. They will win.

  What about the gifts?! the six protestors demanded. We gave the three small humans live Arnock for Highland to dissect and study. What has that gotten us?

  They were holding Kizik to account for the deal he had made. It hadn’t been quite enough to invade the humans’ minds. They needed hardware. Kizik had paid Highland in live Arnock, including a few masters, in exchange for ships, weapons, and communications systems. It had been a horrifically painful deal to make, but it had worked. The humans had pulled back bloodied and limping.

  Highland will fall! Did you not see what I saw through Timberwolf’s eyes? The three small men are desperate! Timberwolf has been captured by his old teacher!

  Kizik stared into each of the protestors’ minds one by one. He felt for them, but they didn’t understand. None of them had fought the humans. Kizik saw in them a bold naiveté and an exhaustion that was so deep that it went to the core of their souls. One of them, Dremis, stepped forward. Alone, Dremis had held together the Arnock spirituality during the war, even as the slaughter had reached a fever pitch. His mind was placid even now.

  This is desperation, Dremis said, calmly.

  That is not in doubt, Kizik responded.

  Our gods teach us that peace is our place in the universe.

  I wish that was true. Kizik sighed. His old friend shuffled. They had lived in the same alcove as young apprentices, staying up arguing philosophy as students did—joyously disagreeing, harmonizing their positions, and then coming out at odds again by morning.

  When things come to an end, perhaps that’s what Radem has written. Dremis invoked the holiest incarnation of their deities—Radem—the collective council of their gods.

  Sometimes Radem is to be ignored. You showed me that.

  I wish that was true, Dremis responded.

  Kizik respected his old friend and loved Dremis as much as two Arnock could love each other, but there had been enough idealism. The war had taken that from Kizik and the other veterans.

  Radem is dead, Kizik said.

  The six blocking the vault shuddered at the blasphemy, and Kizik could feel doubts from the supporters behind him as well. The six blocking his way tried to respond collectively, but couldn’t align their thoughts. Finally it came bluntly from Dremis. We will not step aside.

  I hoped it would be you, Kizik responded.

  With his mind, Kizik pushed the veterans behind him away. Told his supporters not to interfere or participate. He would take the burden for them all. The Arnock mind was not one that changed easily. Its logic routines and mental capacity were too thorough and specialized. There was only one way through this impasse.

  Kizik shivered and buzzed, reaching out with his mind to the six before him. All at once, it was like he grabbed them by their throats. They squealed audibly, trying in vain to protect themselves from the mental onslaught. Then, one by one, they ceased being alive and fell to the ground, until it was just Dremis remaining. The philosopher peered at Kizik’s mind and said the most hurtful thing it could before dying.

  Radem loves you.

  THE VAULT

  Not every Arnock had immediately cocooned itself when Kizik put them to sleep. Some had work to do first. They prepped a command ship and a troop carrier and readied for a military expedition.

  Kizik and the surviving masters opened the twelve-foot-thick doors to The Vault and made their way to a hangar bay, a vast chamber that could fit a dozen skyscrapers. Here, a massive command ship, curved and organic like a giant snail shell, sat ready to depart. Its launch sequence was halted in the final moments with Arnock standing by inside, cocooned at their stations. Next to it was a troop carrier ship, spindly and long with cylindrical landing craft hanging from its hull; all filled with sleeping soldiers and sentries.

  Before the war, there were over a thousand masters. Now there were barely two dozen and Kizik had killed six critical members of Arnock society who had stood in opposition—spiritual leaders and poets they would never be able to get back. Launching an attack on Highland would surely get more masters and countless others killed. Even if this was successful and their race survived, would they even be Arnock anymore? Or something ugly and deformed? That’s what the six had considered and found unacceptable. They had chosen to die rather than see their society degrade any further. Kizik had been the instrument that helped them.

  He ordered the other masters aboard the vessels, some on the command ship and some on the troop carrier. As they boarded, he could feel their disdain for him, even as he’d done what was necessary. They saw in him a monster they dared not look at. Arnock never feared each other, but they were scared of him. No one dared think it, but the word for him was farhallen. Creature of the badlands. Beast of the wind.

  Kizik got halfway up the gangplank on the command ship, but at the last moment, he opted to board the troop carrier. He needed to be in the thick of it if he was going to go through with this. Once aboard, he drew the Arnock on both vessels out of hibernation. They stirred to life, using their sharp claws to cut through their cocoons. From outside, he felt the presence of the four masters he was leaving to tend to the sleepers. Behind them came the few dozen apprentices who had been born just within the last year. Small and clumsy, the children scrambled about, excited and confused by all the commotion. They’d never known a bustling time, with streets filled with other Arnock. To them, their whole lives had been lived in these empty warrens filled with cocoons.

  The engines on the two vessels powered to life and with a hum barely above silence, they levitated off the moorings. Far above them, the ceiling opened up to the twilight sky, speckled with pinpricks of light. Kizik heard the children exclaim with delight, Stars! Stars! Stars!

  The ships rose, the space large enough to allow them to float side by side. When they neared the surface the pilots turned on the cloaks and the two vessels evaporated into the sky. Kizik could feel the surprise and concern from the children below as the ships disappeared and he assured them.

  We’re hiding!

  Kizik knew that if he survived this, there would be no welcome for him on Arnock Prime, no thanks and no laurels. Kizik was beyond caring about any of it. He had done a terrible thing today that he was too exhausted to regret, and he intended not to. He was determined to be the wind that swept back over the humans for what they had done before and for what they planned to do now. Stars! Stars! Stars! he heard again, as the ceiling to his world closed behind him.

  DECISION

  Salla heard the plasma bursts and stopped running. She hadn’t expected them to shoot Timberwolf. She couldn’t stand the idea of leaving someone behind. Back on Nova Turin, too many people had been left waiting for rescue that never came. She took her sidearm from its holster for the first time ever and charged it. She was about to turn back when she found herself momentarily held by the shoulders by someone coming towards the clamor. “Excuse me,” Emmanuel Gray said politely as he rushed past her. With that, she lost
her nerve. The thought had been suicide anyway and she wouldn’t be of any value dead or in a cell. The last thing she saw before Timberwolf fell awed her. He was standing upright and taking on his armored attackers hand-to-hand. Gray was then hovering over him on the ground, shooing the men away.

  Gray hauled Timberwolf over his shoulder as the others helped. Drogel limped, showing them the way. They were coming towards her. “Salla, tell security we’re bringing him up to cell B,” Drogel said.

  Salla nodded as they passed her and she moved aside. Just then Timberwolf slipped from Gray’s shoulder, falling to the deck. As they struggled to pick him back up, he managed to grab Salla’s hand. When they’d moved off, Salla noticed the keycard in her palm. Get the box from my quarters aboard the Nina…she remembered Timberwolf telling her. It didn’t make any sense to put that on Nina now, but if she hurried she could get it up to the detention level before Gray and Drogel got there. I hope that’s what you’re trying to tell me, she thought. She looked to the infirmary. Achilles was peering through a porthole-sized window. They locked eyes and he yelled for her, banging on the door. “You have to stay here, for your own safety,” she told him. Achilles panicked, shaking his head negatively.

  “No! He’s here for me! You’ve got to get me out of here!” But Salla couldn’t help him right now and she had no time to argue. As he yelled for her, she ran off.

  Salla avoided the elevators and took the access tubes out to the inner hab ring to Timberwolf’s quarters. She tried the keycard and the door clicked open. Timberwolf’s living space wasn’t the tidy affair she had imagined, but much more haphazard. Reports were taped up on the walls. Charts were spread out over a table he’d taken from an office. A half-full coffee pot sat at a cluttered desk. She pushed his bed aside and saw the box instantly. It was a five-foot-long, gray footlocker. She grabbed it and went to pull, but it felt like it was bolted to the floor. I can’t move this!

 

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