Timberwolf

by Tom Julian

  Gray’s men argued at the cross-corridor, unable to decide left or right, up or down. They held Timberwolf like a sack of potatoes between them and he wasn’t helping. He stuck his foot out and hooked it against a wall and they almost dropped him. Drogel tried to point the way, but then changed his mind.

  Salla saw a panel on the side of the box and opened it. Inside was a suspensor control. She activated it and the box rose two feet and floated there. She pushed it out the door and through the tight corridors, people clearing out of her way. When she got close to the detention level, she slowed to a walk. She found three security guards sitting at a table playing cards, a pile of poker chips in front of them. When they saw her, one of them jumped up and sent the chips flying. “Vice! What can we help you with?” she asked.

  “I don’t give you much to do, huh? I had to bring this up myself. Open cell B!”

  The security guards scattered, one of them cranking open the cell. Salla managed not to appear relieved they didn’t ask her what she was doing. She didn’t exactly know. The elevator nearby opened and Gray’s men spilled out, hauling Timberwolf. They dragged him the last few steps to the cell. “Stick him in here,” she said. “Glad to have this one under wraps, you know?”

  Salla held the door open to the cell, her uniform disheveled. She elbowed in and took Timberwolf under the shoulders, dropping him roughly to the floor inside the cell. She nudged the box with her toe, pushing it further out of view under a metal cot.

  “Thank you, Vice,” Drogel said, rolling his eyes at the others. Salla looked up to see Gray there, smiling at her. “This is my vice,” Drogel introduced her to Gray, with a wave of his fleshy hand.

  “Pleasure. Sorry for the workout.” Gray held his hand out to her. On his index finger was a blue basic training ring awarded to the class valedictorian. It was exactly the same one Salla wore. She couldn’t believe she was doing it, but she took his hand. “Thank you,” she said. “I know who you are.”

  “The important thing is who you are,” Gray answered in the superior way an adult made a child feel special. Gray’s handshake was warm and enveloping. He smiled again and looked over at Timberwolf, crumpled up on the floor. “With some you never know.”

  In the instant he released her hand, Salla noticed that Gray saw the tattoo on her knuckle in the shape of an ornate NT. All of the miners on Nova Turin had gotten them. Before he could look at her again, she’d slipped away, but he’d seen it and had to know she was one of the living ghosts he had made on that world. Salla stumbled backwards out of the hall, bracing herself against the wall.

  Gray had touched and spoken to her. She had always imagined she would see him one day and approach him calmly and tell him who she was and what he’d done to her. Then he’d apologize and ask her not to kill him. She had never taken that any further in her mind and her dark fantasy never thickened to a conclusion. When she had finally met Gray, she’d just gotten out of his sight as quickly as possible, seemingly making no impact on him. He’d seen her tattoo, though, and had to know where she was from. But now it was over and she stood in the hall, laboring to stay on her feet.

  She thought about going back to her quarters and keeping her head down until all this was over, but there was that man, Achilles Dacha, in the infirmary, begging to be released. Gray wanted him and he was critical to his plan…Highland…the Arnock…Timberwolf…Achilles? He must have had some sort of access to Highland. Gray stood outside Timberwolf’s cell, arms folded in satisfaction, buoyantly jawing with his men, ready for his next move.

  Gray laughed as someone made a joke about Timberwolf, crumpled up and beaten in the cell. He found Salla in his gaze for a moment and nodded at her, ever so slightly. He’d noticed! He knew she was from Nova. She thought of her sister, Kora, two years younger. I’ll be right back Kora. Wait in the basement! Stay hidden.

  Stay hidden. No one stayed hidden on Nova. Gray’s men had heartbeat monitors.

  Suddenly, it was clear what to do next. She wasn’t going to her quarters. She wasn’t going to stay hidden. No way in hell you’re getting what you want. Not Highland. Not past me.

  She slipped down the stairs. She could be back out to the hab ring and to the infirmary in just minutes. She’d have to move fast, before she lost her nerve. What’s in the box? she thought as she ran. She hoped that whatever was inside would help Timberwolf escape. She was counting on him.

  MEMORIES

  Gray and Michael looked in at Timberwolf in the cell. He was crumpled up on the floor with his back to them, a mess of black and blue.

  “I say a walk in space is what’s good for him,” Michael said, suggesting with his brow that he would take action on that right now if only Gray turned his back.

  “My heart tells me he has a place in this story, just like you.”

  “Did you come here for Achilles Dacha, or for Timberwolf?”

  “That’s nice to ask,” Gray spat back.

  Michael shook his head. Taking Timberwolf out of the equation was a plus, but to him it was not enough. “What we’re doing here, it’s not just what Izabeck writes in his book. We need focus to take Highland. Timberwolf alive is too much risk. He’s sleeping now. Just let me…”

  “Shh. He’s not sleeping. He never rests.” Gray put his fingers to his lips. “I want him to stay alive. If he dies you would follow him swiftly, Michael. Is that understood?”

  “No, it’s not. But he’ll keep breathing.”

  Timberwolf stirred on the floor of the cell. His throat was dry as a bone. He slipped in and out of consciousness, sometimes heaving from the pain of the plasma burns, his eyes opening for wretched moments. Finally, he stopped writhing and relaxed, for no other reason than his body was too tired to fight the pain anymore. In his mind, he felt Kizik watching him. Timberwolf knew the creature was traveling. It was hard to explain, but the color of the union with Kizik kept changing, like a mental Doppler effect. It felt red. Somehow it was clear Kizik was coming toward him.

  Timberwolf pushed the being away and found himself somewhere between fever dreams and memories. He was on Phaelon Prime almost twenty years before. His squad patrolled through the Mile High Red Forest, past maroon tree trunks eighty feet wide. Light from above pierced the mist in wide bars. The memories came back in pulses of images and sounds.

  There was the crack of the giant tree falling, a trap they’d walked into…the impact on the ground scattering the squad…Timberwolf’s heads-up display showing his squad mates going from green to red and then fading to gray…

  The whine of the chemical lasers and the howls of the Phaelon as they dropped on cables from the trees…Sergeant Almador’s armor glowing like the sun as he was incinerated…

  Timberwolf rallying the survivors and rushing the attackers…attacking a mortar position with bayonets…running through the forest…more trees falling behind them…three Phaelon fleeing for their lives in front of them…

  Timberwolf stirred in the cell, almost smiling at the memory. “Those were the good old days,” he groaned. He heaved some more and passed out. His mind swirled with memories again, but they were much clearer, almost like he was watching a movie. It was five years before. The first time he met Kizik.

  He was onboard a drop lifter racing low over a jagged red world…paging through the mission briefing on his heads-up…Jackhammer, that word floating out to him…Jackhammer…

  The eight-man squad piling out…making their way to the cave where they knew Kizik was…the presence tickling his mind, feeling it behind his sinuses for the first time…

  The terror in the voice of the lifter pilot as she took off…her yelling about an Arnock in the cabin…the lifter crashing and rolling over some of the squad…the hallucinations starting…

  Firing at an Arnock that disappeared…ordering everyone to point delta…the rat-tat-tat of plasma rifles…one man casually removing his helmet and falling over dead…a man falling into a crevasse and the clang, clang, clang of his armor against the rocks…

/>   The Arnock rising on its back legs then melting away…Timberwolf shooting…Lieutenant Marco taking the blast to the chest…Timberwolf dragging him and begging him to live…the emergency siren ringing in Marco’s helmet as he flat-lined…a dozen Arnock surrounding them and all but one fading away…

  Kizik dragging Timberwolf to the cave…the being’s wretched breath, like rancid cinnamon…the red blotch on its face, like a shotgun blast of blood…how it buzzed and shook before entering his mind…Thoughts and images mixing together, unsure which mind was which…

  Timber, I’m near death with you…

  In my head, my team?

  You let them die…

  No…

  Struggling to escape…unable to even move his jaw…

  Are you embracing death? The emptiness. The nothingness. The fingers at your throat. Your people swarm near our space. When, where will they come?

  I won’t tell you…

  The crash of the bombs from air support above…

  They act to kill you. They know you will tell me…

  Gray standing in front of him now and Kizik scurrying away…lying on the floor of the medical lifter…asking to die…the presence hanging onto him…

  The white room in Purity Hospital…struggling against the restraints…The doctors watching him…Dr. Tier’s face hovering…feeling the drugs rush to his heart…the beep of the medical machines getting louder…louder still…

  Suddenly Timberwolf was conscious, but he couldn’t open his eyes. He knew he was still in the cell as he felt the cold of the floor against his back. The presence was overwhelming. Kizik was with him now, like he was right in the room. He felt the being grinding in his mind, in the air, in the walls and in every cell of his body. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

  Timber, I’m here with you.

  Timberwolf was able to respond, but able wasn’t the right word. He was compelled to respond, unable not to. You showed me that again? Why?

  I needed to remind you.

  Kizik had never come to Timberwolf so clearly. He’d always been elusive, just outside the fringes, grinding on him. He seldom used language, except in spurts. Timberwolf had no idea he was capable of this.

  Are you here? You’re everywhere.

  I am always everywhere. I must tell you something.

  No. Just go away.

  You came to seek me out. That’s what I was showing you. I see you have regrets now that we know each other.

  Timberwolf tried to push him away, but couldn’t. It was like Kizik had a foot in the door of his mind. He continued, You must stop Gray. We are sleeping, but we’ll be awake if you come. You are the fire. We are the wind.

  Timberwolf tried to respond, but he couldn’t. Instead he felt a rush of energy that filled up every part of him. The pain from his wounds was gone and he sat up, blinking. Kizik was gone now, like he’d never been there. He rubbed his eyes, saw the black and blue on the back of his hand. It didn’t hurt, but it was tender.

  The light in the cell hummed and blinked. He struggled to his feet, his survival instincts kicking in. He knew that it was a gift from Kizik that he was up, but he didn’t care right now. Kizik must have tricked his brain into releasing analgesics to deaden the pain from his injuries. He began to pace. He saw two of Gray’s men out in the hall, heads swinging from side to side as they watched him walk back and forth.

  He smiled at them and cracked his knuckles. He began pulling on the metal cot bolted to the floor. Soon, the bolts began to loosen as he yanked the cot back and forth. After a few minutes, covered in sweat and swearing, he’d pried the foot of the cot from the floor, bending it in half. The guards banged on the door but he ignored them. He planned to use the cot as a battering ram against the door. It wasn’t a great idea, but it was better than nothing…Wait, what the hell is that?

  Under the cot was the box from his quarters. Timberwolf fell back on his haunches a moment. “Thanks, Vice,” he said aloud. This was a much better plan.

  SAINT FRANCIS

  Gray received a request to report to Cardinal Jacob’s cabin on St. Francis. Michael had warned against it, but there was no way Gray was missing this. After Gray had joined the Believer order on Haven, it became very clear that Cardinal Jacob had had a plan for him since the moment they met. But their working relationship quickly became that of two bulls sparring for dominance.

  On the very day of his oath, Cardinal Jacob showed him the detailed plans his military advisors had drawn up for how to take Highland. They were meticulous down to the last detail. They were presented in perfect clarity. They were hugely flawed.

  The problem was that the plan took everything on faith. It was assumed that the intelligence they had on the Dachas was infallible. There were no contingencies, no backups. If it turned out that the Dachas were in fact nobodies, the plan would have failed and Gray would have been left holding the bag. At first Gray had been polite and offered suggestions, but Cardinal Jacob had grown stubborn. He refused to back down on any of his points or change the smallest detail. Gray could have walked away, but he refused to back down. He challenged Cardinal Jacob on everything, in public and in private.

  One day, instead of arguing, Gray simply took action. As a test, he ordered Wrath from Highland without asking permission or informing Cardinal Jacob. He organized a pickup on a small planetoid in the asteroid belt around Alpha-Sigma. Ivan Dacha made the delivery and Gray paid Michael to make the pickup. Once completed, Michael tipped off the local shipping authorities to illegal weapons trafficking and Ivan was arrested. Gray pulled some strings to get him held at Fangelsi in cryogenic stasis until trial.

  When Cardinal Jacob heard what Gray had done, he called him in front of The Clergy. His obsession with Highland and controlling Gray’s actions was making the other cardinals doubt him. It was this exchange that finally sealed Cardinal Jacob’s fate.

  “Why is Ivan Dacha not here as our guest and instead in a prison?” Cardinal Jacob had demanded.

  “You wanted me to bring him here? You don’t think they’d come looking for him? You would jeopardize the whole Believer order for this?”

  Unable to answer Gray’s challenge, Cardinal Jacob and his advisors retreated to the top wing of the Believer Citadel and refused any visitors or communications. Not long after that, Cardinal Jacob’s chief rival, Cardinal Claire Dais, called an emergency vote on Cardinal Jacob’s suitability as prime cardinal. The vote was overwhelmingly negative against him. Sister Claire became prime cardinal and allowed Gray to plan the mission the way he saw fit. The only thing Cardinal Jacob still had the power to do was place a Believer crew and his man Izabeck on Nemesis. What stung most of all was that Cardinal Jacob’s control over The Clergy’s monetary affairs was stripped.

  Two guards dressed in ornate cerulean blue uniforms crossed spears in front of Cardinal Jacob’s cabin on St. Francis. Gray remembered them from his time on Haven. After a few moments of banter, they opened the door and let Gray and Izabeck enter.

  Within the cabin, Cardinal Jacob sat on what could only be described as a throne. He was perched upon a formal chair on a slight dais. A secretary stood to his side. Gray couldn’t control himself and laughed at the sight. “Maybe find a barefoot servant to fan you with palms?”

  “Emmanuel, it is a rare pleasure to see you. You seem so…” he searched for the word, “alive in all this.”

  “Despite your prayers, I’m sure.”

  “I would never pray for someone’s misfortune. There was no such person as St. Schadenfreude.” Cardinal Jacob’s face looked exhausted; Gray had determined long ago that this was simply an act to appear bored and put upon. “I’m merely here to visit a member of my flock alone in a field.”

  “That’s lovely. So, what do you want?”

  “I need to understand your will, Bishop Gray. I really need to understand your character.”

  “Well, we both know you’re not fond of my character. My intention is to take Highland as planned.”


  “I would like you to give up that foolishness,” Cardinal Jacob said. Izabeck looked up from scribbling, his brow rising.

  “Oh you would, Cardinal Jacob? You’re forgetting this was your idea?”

  He swallowed hard. “Emmanuel, friend. I am in a position to make things very bad for you.”

  “I really don’t see how. You’ve taken Sister Claire’s yacht for a ride and now you’re just blowing your horn.”

  The unsaid truth between them was that the failure of this mission would bolster Cardinal Jacob’s status amongst The Clergy again and discredit Sister Claire. If Gray backed away from Highland and things fell apart, then maybe her little insurrection would crumble as quickly as it had come together.

  Cardinal Jacob searched the air and thumbed the prayer beads around his neck. “You have one final chance. Give up on Highland. You will be paid extravagantly once I regain the prime cardinalship.”

  “You don’t have the coin I want. Is that it?”

  “I am sorry, Emmanuel.”

  Gray smirked, looking for the plot. Cardinal Jacob wouldn’t have come all the way here just to chat politely and he had never once told Gray he was sorry for anything. The look in Cardinal Jacob’s eyes seemed genuine; true resignation with hints of regret. Gray wasn’t buying this façade of sincerity for a second. He wanted to throttle him there and get to the bottom of this, but he decided to back away for once and let things lie. He had gotten everything he wanted today. Timberwolf was in a cell and he had Achilles Dacha. All he had to do was get him back on Nemesis and leave. “I’m going to do wonderful things for all Believers, Jacob,” Gray said. Cardinal Jacob nodded and Gray backed away, polite enough not to show the cardinal his back.