by James Somers
The Chronicles of Soone
~Heir to the King~
James Somers
Published by Breakneck Books (USA)
www.breakneckbooks.com
First printing, November 2006
Copyright © James Somers, 2006
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination (excluding Biblical characters and stories) or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coin-cidental.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information e-mail all inquiries to: [email protected]
Printed in the United States of America.
Visit James Somers on the World Wide Web at:
www.jamessomersonline.com
Dedicated to my wife Christy and our children.
You are a constant blessing to me.
And most of all, to my Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ.
PROLOGUE
Date: Year 9015 (Planet Castai III)
SUCH devastation, it was like nothing the young man had ever laid his eyes on before. The entire valley before Mt. Vaseer, for miles and miles, was strewn with body after body of his warrior clan, the Barudii. The ground was a blood soaked horrorscape. Birds of prey launched skyward as he walked through the aftermath.
He had been wandering between bodies for nearly six hours. His boots were red with the blood of his people. All around him, the murderers retreated from the battlefield; the dark skinned Vorn and their vicious brute clones, the Horva. Yet they did not lay a finger to harm him—why would they? After all he was the one that had led them here; had given them the information necessary to make all of this possible. He was a villainous traitor.
“Master Kale?” asked one of the Vorn commanders, “You had better find a transport to take you back to the ship. We’ll be departing soon to join the fleet.”
He paused in his search. “I will be along very shortly,” he said.
The dark skinned man went on about his business, rounding up the Horva for departure; their work here was finished.
Kale searched more frantically now; he had to find him, had to know if all of this was really happening or only a nightmare. Near the front lines, he saw it on the ground. The diadem was pure adomen; a costly durable alloy that bore a luster all its own. The single jewel that should have been mounted in the front was missing.
Very near, was his body; the owner of the crown and king of the Barudii. This was his father; the man whom he had betrayed into the hands of their enemies. His bloodstained expression was strangely peaceful. Kale could not take his eyes off of him. He felt frozen in place, frozen in time. Could this really have been what I wanted, he wondered? Is this my prize, my victory for the humiliation that was brought upon me?
He shut his eyes and turned away from the face, but it was still there, piercing his soul. He considered that somewhere within the city were his mother and his younger brother Tiet. How horribly had they died? His brother had only been in his eighth year; ten years the younger.
He heard the troop transports powering up and readying for take-off as the last of the combatants made their way on board. Several hundred ships to choose from, but none of them contained any friendly faces for him. He was technically on their side; but there is no honor for a traitor among any people.
He began to walk away and thought of looking back to take in one last glimpse of his father, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t have to—he had a feeling that that face, its expression cast in death, would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Kale boarded one of the transport ships that carried thousands of Vorn and Horva and stood next to a view port. The massacre was less personal from the air. He was the only one who was left of his people; the only survivor, and a traitor. He felt like pulling his weapon and stabbing it into his heart, to kill the soul wrenching agony before it could begin its feast, but he didn’t have the courage.
He sat on the floor against the wall of the ship’s troop compartment among a hundred smelly Horva. His people had been the guardians of Castai’s clans. Now they would be ripe for picking by the Vorn.
I
DATE: The Year 9027 (Planet: Castai III)
NOT so long ago, in another creation of God… the sky burned red and so did his emotions. A lone figure watched from his perch as people scurried to their homes on the streets below; curfew was approaching. Military personnel were stationed in threes on every major street corner to help ensure that everyone obeyed.
He watched them, down on the street beneath him; hating them. A security camera’s gears whined as it swiveled on its mount next to him, looking for miscreants. He was almost in view, but not quite.
They weren’t going to see him tonight. He would be a shadow, a nightmare that strikes and is gone before the senses can capture it. Orin would be angry, of course. He had been before, but now he was older, now he was ready.
The cloning facility was in view above the other rooftop—that place where monsters were bred. The Horva were their footmen; brute forms of men made for the purpose of crushing their enemies. That’s what they used to kill my people.
It was a good place to start a rebellion—take down their cloning shop and cut off their source of expendable soldiers. The only trouble was he didn’t really have a how for the plan.
The next rooftop was all the way across the two lane street below. When no one appeared to be looking, he leapt away from the ledge, flipped over end once and landed on the rooftop ledge across the street. Barudii kinesis was a wonderful thing, if you were the good guy. And he wanted to do some good for his fellow Castillians tonight. Maybe they would be ready to rise up to the challenge then.
He could sense the motion of the cameras on the roof and spotted them easily. He waited for them to leave a spot in their visual field for him and then he ran through to the other side of the rooftop.
The cloning facility was there just beyond a large intercity highway—the jump would be too much. Traffic was off of the streets with the onset of curfew; he could run across now. Tiet dropped off of the building, a full two hundred feet to the pavement below—yes, Barudii kinesis was a wonderful thing.
While in the air, Tiet noticed a Vorn soldier was emerging from a side door below. He adjusted his fall slightly and came down right behind the man. His hand cupped the soldier’s mouth and with a quick jerk of his arm, the neck snapped. He dropped the enemy to the ground as the body went limp. He left him, hoping to be long gone before anyone discovered the body.
He ran across the empty lanes of traffic to the fence on the other side. He jumped over its barbed wire top without effort, but another layer of fencing stood on the other side. This one was electrified, according to the signs. No bother—he jumped the height of it again. This was almost too easy, he thought.
ON a security panel inside the clone complex, a warning flashed and data begin to pour onto the screen. The night security officer looked the information over. Sometimes small animals would trigger the pressure relays located all over the grounds of the complex; but not this time. The weight given at the trigger point was one hundred and fifty five pounds; way too big for one of the usual nocturnal animals active around this time.
He punched in his security code to activate the silent alarm and brought up some other scanning and video devices on the display. It took a moment, but then he saw him. A man was ent
ering the building through one of the air vents. He brought up a schematic for the complex and zoomed in on that particular air duct. It went through an area of the detention center and then came out near the main laboratory area. This is almost too easy.
“IDENTIFY.”
“Dr.Ranul K’ore, chief science engineer, sector seven.”
“Visual and voice recognition, confirmed,” said the robot.
The metal door slid open and Ranul walked past the automaton into the main lab. Since the Vorn had come to Castai twenty years ago, everything had changed. The cities were in ruins and millions from every clan had been slaughtered by the Horva army of the Vorn. Resistance was futile and had caused more deaths at every attempt.
The cruel Vorn had sent the Horva against entire cities of innocents when anyone dared disobey them. The People were desperate for relief of any kind.
Ranul’s nineteen-year-old daughter had been imprisoned along with his wife Ellai to pressure him into building war machines for them. If he refused, he might never see them again. He tried to push away the pain, as he turned to continue his work.
The final program sequences had been keyed in and it was time to arm the weapons systems of Ranul’s latest sentinel prototype.
As Vorn scientists watched, he finished arming the Sentinel’s combat systems and transmitted its hardwired instructions to follow Vorn authority. A few of Ranul’s engineering specialists mingled among the Vorn scientists running diagnostic checks on the prototype systems.
It was really a gorgeous machine. It was an android and had been designed with an adomen-coated skeleton for durability under fire. The outer skin was cultured from samples on file and was extremely life-like. Nutrient supply systems were incorporated to keep the tissue alive and banded adomen fibers were specially bundled for use as muscle for the mechanical warrior.
He had modeled the exterior appearance, from skeletal structure all the way to muscle positions and skin features, after a young Barudii he had known long ago. And now as this machine came to pseudo-life, he realized just how much it did look like his old friend Orin Vale.
It was a deadly machine, but now it would only serve Vorn interests. Once they saw its capability they would mass produce them to gain more dominance. This android is going to be tough to stop, he thought.
As the robot’s CPU began to run through its programming and perform systems diagnostic checks, Ranul looked at the Vorn in the room, all looking very pleased with their new soldier. He wondered for a moment what the consequences of all this would be for his people, and his family. Ellai, what have I done?
THE air duct wasn’t as roomy as Tiet would have liked, but he could still get through. A constant stream of wind was passing over him making it hard to hear what any voices might be saying from the adjoining rooms along the way.
He came to a vent screen that was made of a particularly heavy meshwork. When he looked inside he could see what appeared to be a holding cell. A small group of adolescents were sitting on the concrete floor inside. The group was comprised of a few younger boys and girls and one older girl about his age. The only facilities in the room were a small dirty sink basin and a toilet with a blanket hanging across as a semblance of privacy.
The front of the cell was barred with heavier meshwork and a half sized door—which meant they had to get on their knees to get out—if they were ever allowed to.
His scabbard scraped the roof of the duct; it was too difficult to try and maneuver in here and get to his blade. Instead he removed a kemstick from his vest. The hilt was about twelve inches and the dispersion rod was still retracted.
Tiet pressed his face against the vent, looking down on the people in the cell. He tapped lightly with the hilt of his weapon on the floor of the air vent. The older girl looked around, then up at him. She was startled when she saw that there was a person behind the vent screen.
“I’m going to get you out,” he whispered. “Is it all clear?”
The girl stared at him with her eyes only, not giving anything away by gesture. The other children in the cell were now looking up at him to see where the voice was coming from. One young boy began to cry out, but the older girl cupped his mouth quickly to prevent alerting the guards.
She gestured only, putting her finger to her mouth to shush them. Then she quietly walked near the front of the cell and looked down the hall beyond—no one was coming. When she had walked back to the other children and gestured to calm them again, she looked up and nodded to him.
Tiet brought the kemstick hilt up in a stabbing fashion and then ejected the dispersion rod. It extended out from the handle a full twenty two inches with a molecular dispersion field enveloping the rod. A bright yellow shaft punched through the metal around the vent.
He grabbed the mesh plate with his fingers and proceeded to cut around it big enough to get the older girl through. The metal popped and sizzled as the field destroyed molecular bonds and carved through the vent wall until he was done.
Tiet laid the cut piece up ahead of the hole and reached his arms down to be able to help them up.
“We can’t reach,” whispered the older girl.
“Don’t worry.”
Without warning one of the children began to levitate off of the floor. She thought they might scream, and gestured for them all to remain quiet—that it was alright.
The child sailed up into the hole with Tiet helping them inside. He was pressed against the side wall just enough to allow them to pass and get behind him.
The girl walked to the front of the cell, wanting to be sure no guards were coming—no one yet. Behind her, the children each took their turn, seven in all, and rose up through the charred hole with the help of their mysterious rescuer.
“Come on,” he whispered.
She walked underneath and was caught by invisible hands that lifted her up to the young man waiting to receive her into the tunnel. Now that she could see him, she found that he had short dark hair like midnight and dark piercing eyes. He was quite handsome and appeared to be close to her age. When he grabbed her hands she gauged his strength. She could feel the calluses and connected them with the worn handle of the sword across his back.
He pulled her inside the air duct and pressed his body back to allow her to pass—she was bigger than the younger children—it was a tight squeeze.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“Tiet Soone; and you?”
“Mirah K’ore. Are you insane? How did you get in here?”
“Don’t worry; I’m a Barudii warrior,” he said confidently.
She didn’t appear impressed. “I didn’t think there were any Barudii left anymore.” She didn’t wait for the reply as she scooted her body on past him.
She’s sort of feisty, he thought, but he could see she was pretty beneath the grime of their incarceration.
“What now?”
“Just go back down this shaft and it will lead to the outside. Take the kemstick,” he said, handing Mirah the weapon. “Run for the fence; this will allow you to cut through and get off of the grounds. Just be quiet and stick to the unlit areas; you should be alright, I didn’t see any guards on the way in.”
“Then what?”
“If you can get to a home, maybe they’ll hide you until you can get back to your families.”
“Where are you going?”
“I still have some business to attend to; now get going.”
The children began their slithering way back along the air duct, with Mirah behind them. Tiet went on over the hole and continued through the duct ahead.
In a moment a guard appeared in front of the cell. He couldn’t believe it; where had his prisoners gone?! He grabbed his throat—something unseen was choking him. His eyes bugged as he tried to breathe. A fist tightened in the shadows as a lone figure watched from some distance while the guard struggled and then collapsed, his trachea crushed by an invisible grip.
The man looked up at the charred hole in the ceiling of the de
tention cell. Careless; just plain careless and inexperienced. He sighed and moved on, using the shadows for his vehicle. Those children will need help to get out safely. Just plain reckless.
Tiet passed some more cells along his way, but they were empty. When he finally reached the end of the shaft, it was capped by a wire grill like the one he had used to enter the building.
Beyond it was a massive room full of all manner of technologies. Clusters of pods hung from great robotic arms mounted to the ceiling. This must be where they make the clones.
Only one detail was missing. There were no Horva being made; none at all. In fact the whole chamber was devoid of activity altogether. In the distant part of the great room was a series of large tanks with various chemical names printed on the sides. They were transparent but no chemicals could be seen within.
A control chamber was near the tanks; maybe he could get some useful information from their computers. He pressed his body against the screen and then gave it a good solid push. It gave way and almost fell onto the floor before he could grab it.
No one could be seen moving about in the room. He climbed out and replaced the screen in case someone happened by. He crossed the floor of the huge chamber with caution, looking for camera mounts. There were a few, but he waited and used the large equipment to stay hidden from their field of view.
He had made it about halfway to the control chamber when doors at the four corners of the room opened up and Vorn soldiers rushed in with Horva among them. The clones were fiendish crazed looking men that were purposely mutated in size and strength. Their fingers had sharp claws and their teeth looked like those of a predator. Within those eyes was no fear. They charged at him, howling savagely.
Suddenly the lights in the chamber flickered and went out. The emergency lighting immediately kicked in. The soldiers were looking around wondering what was happening, but the Horva had no such concerns; they continued to charge.
