by YS Pascal
Instantly—nothing happened. Gary’s superErgal was dead. Annoyed, I pulled it out of my tunic and laid it sharply on Benedict’s desk.
Benedict smiled, and picked up the ring, slipping it onto his hand. “Nice to have it back again,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
Frustrated, I plunked back down on the floor and did not respond.
Spud decided to take a chance. “Tell me, then. Theoretically, how might one uncover mutes?”
“Theoretically, I don’t have to uncover them,” Benedict said calmly. “I simply had to rescan the Kharybdian ship that’s now following ours.” He leaned forward and favored us with a piercing gaze. “I noted that, peculiarly, it also had a Burr, a Plionarctos, and an Agriarctos on board. Deducing the rest was not difficult.”
Doomed. We were so doomed. I cradled my head in my hands.
Benedict sat back again and crossed his arms upon his chest. “Well then, it seems as if we are at a decision point.”
We didn’t respond.
He looked at each of us in turn. “Are you with us?” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Or, dead?”
Chapter 20
Eve
Benedict pressed a light on his desk and we were immediately surrounded by a large corps of Andarts who M-fanned with stun guns aimed at us and set to kill. I noted that one of the Andarts was our injured escort, whose wound had now been sealed and was no longer seeping.
Still playing the genial host, Benedict advised us that we would each be escorted to different sections of the cottage, where we would have an opportunity to reflect on and discuss our future. The planet-vessel’s voyage to its destination would take a few hours. Our “planet ship” was obviously not a Sportstar. Benedict wrapped up by telling us that he hoped our business could be concluded by the time we arrived.
Doomed.
After being relieved of my now useless Ergal and weapons, I was led by three Andarts back into the main hall and through a large wooden door on its left. Spud, Pallas, and Matshi were all taken away through three different doors in, I assumed, three different directions and lost to my sight.
I was marched down a long hallway, my guards pushing me forward anytime I tried to slow my pace and observe my surroundings. The corridor seemed infinite. After walking for over ten minutes, I reckoned we must’ve long left the cottage and perhaps even the dome itself. Finally, we arrived at a turret with multiple doors—all of them windowless and closed. I didn’t see either door handles or knobs, and none of the doors seemed to have locks. I leaned casually against the door next to me, but it wouldn’t budge, even with force.
The Andarts marched over to a steel door farther around to my right. One of them took out a silver instrument that resembled the half of an orange that Gary had swept over my head as he attempted to raid my neurocache on the Sportstar. The door opened without a sound, and the rest of my guards shoved me into a bare windowless cell with an open toilet, a three-legged wooden stool, and a small cot. Remaining outside, they closed the door and left me there alone.
After exhaling, I did the usual Catascope 101 stuff, checking the door and the rest of the room to see if I could escape. That never works, you know—bad guys aren’t stupid. What’s the point of setting up a prison cell if your prisoner can easily get out? Unless you want him to. Which, unfortunately, Benedict didn’t. So—no surprise--the door was quite locked, without slits through which I could squeeze a makeshift crowbar from the available furniture. I lay down on the cot. I would have to wait for my opportunity to run.
The one bright light on the horizon, literally, was Eikhus’s ship following us. If Nephil Stratum had been monitoring Benedict with her gem, they could be aware that we were in trouble. With the two Ytrans and the two remaining Megarans to help, they might be able to mount a rescue mission. I could only hope. I closed my eyes, and, with John’s words about patience echoing once again in my ears, prepared to wait.
A warm breeze caressed my face. I opened my eyes and found myself lying on cool grass in a forest of tall pines. Streaks of light shone through the branches and trunks of the trees, which formed a radiant cathedral ceiling. I breathed the pleasing scent for a few minutes, enjoying the peace of the spot, before remembering that I was a prisoner and that it would behoove me to get up and find out where I was. Quickly. A rapid visual and aural scan of my location told me I still seemed to be alone, except for a few chirping insects that I hoped I wouldn’t step on—or even catch a glimpse of, thank you very much. I trotted among the trees along a well-trod path for several yards before I came upon a clearing, surrounded by tall grass. Ducking low behind it, I couldn’t easily be seen. The whispers I was hearing up ahead sounded like more than the wind.
Peeking through the stalks, in the field beyond, I spied three men, their backs to me. One was crouching over an unusual instrument the size of a large suitcase. He stood up, and, to my alarm, I saw it was Benedict. The second man nodded at Benedict and pointed to a pair of trees beyond the clearing a few yards away. I briefly saw his profile and my eyes widened. It was Wart! But it was the third man who really drew my attention. He seemed to be wearing a spacesuit similar to the ones Spud and I had used fleeing our ship, except that it was completely covered by what looked like a… a Golden Fleece!
Benedict adjusted some settings on his instrument and gave a thumbs-up sign to his suited colleague. Suddenly the man was outlined by a blinding light. I was too far away to see many details, but I did observe the space-suited man pull … the Somalderis? … tighter around him, and turn to Benedict and Wart and return the thumbs-up sign.
I could barely see the voyager’s features through the suit’s visor before he disappeared, but I didn’t have to. I instantly knew who the other man was. An overwhelming agony lanced through my heart. The traveler working alongside Benedict was my brother John.
I heard my voice screaming, “Nooo!”
* * *
I sat up, blinking, eyes brimming with tears. Where was I? Oh, yes, Benedict’s cell. My brother’s face behind the spacesuit visor flashed before me: John! And Benedict! I shivered. Impossible! It was only a nightmare. It had to be. John would never … I looked around the room. Benedict!
“I see you had a nice nap,” Benedict smiled from his precarious perch on the rickety stool.
I brushed the moistness from my face. “Haven’t slept much in the last few days,” I said dully, my eyes darting to the door.
“It’s still locked,” Benedict informed me. “I Ergaled in, quietly. Didn’t want to disturb your … dream.”
I looked up, astounded. How did he know …?
“Your brother was one of my best men,” Benedict continued. “You could follow in his footsteps.”
I physically jerked back. No! Not John! Never John!
Through clenched teeth I responded bitterly, “What could I give you?” I added with a snort. “The Somalderis?”
“Thank you,” Benedict said inexplicably. “Now, I would like your help with His Highness.”
I stared at him, incredulous. The man was totally out of his mind. Aside from the fact that the Omega Archon never, ever left Zyga, he was, without a doubt, the most protected being in all of Zygfed. Me, a junior catascope, would get Benedict the Traitor access to our King? Come on. Really.
Still, I’d come from Hollywood. I’d heard crazier. Taking a cue from my agent’s playbook once again, I leaned back and narrowed my eyes, “And then what?”
“Then, we will share a singular experience,” Benedict chuckled. “Now that we have our Somalderis.”
* * *
The idea that Benedict and his minions had somehow beat us in the quest for the Fleece was disturbing enough, but Benedict’s claim that John had been part of his team had devastated me. Impossible, absolutely impossible! The brother I knew and loved would never have joined ranks with an avowed killer. What could have made something so unlikely happen? It had to be a lie. It had to. A lie to make me cooperate, perhaps?
Well, then, maybe
I should play. Pretending to go along with Benedict could buy me some valuable time. A course change from M81 to Andromeda and the Omega Archon would give us another few hours during which Eikhus and his team could attempt a rescue. Hours during which I could answer the unsettling questions my dream had engendered.
Apparently, and wisely, Benedict didn’t entirely trust me, I wasn’t given back my Ergal and weapons. But at least, using yet a different color of half orange—platinum--Benedict reversed my mute and turned me back into my lithe self. It was, I had to admit, a relief to be out of Agriarctos’ hulky body.
Benedict then commed the three Andarts to come escort me back to the cottage living room and X-fanned with a small salute. Even though still under guard, I was glad to be out of Benedict’s sight, so I could process my thoughts and my feelings. Walking as slowly as they’d let me, I followed my attendants docilely out of my cell and back down the long corridor. When we reached the cottage’s foyer once again, they instructed me to enter an adjacent sitting room I hadn’t noted before and await Benedict’s return. I looked at the kill setting on their guns and obeyed, albeit with a discreet middle-finger salute.
Spud was already ensconced in the sitting room, leaning forward in his seat, his hands resting on his knees and gripping a handkerchief so tightly the veins stood out. He averted his eyes when I entered, focusing intently on the crackling flames of yet another fireplace next to his chair. He looked paler than I had ever seen him—which, trust me, is really pale.
“I had heard whispers of such skills among the Ifestians,” Spud said, stopping my “What’s wrong?” right on my lips.
“What skills?” I asked.
“Memory access,” Spud said, his voice cracking. “Neural manipulation …”
“You know, I had this dream …”
Spud sighed and shook his head. “Memory.”
“No!” I shouted, startling him. “It was not a memory!” Seeing his deep distress, I added more gently, “You, uh, had some, uh, kind of vision, too?”
He nodded. “Yes.” The pause was lingering. Finally, he whispered, “I witnessed my mother’s murder once again.”
For one of the few times in my life, I had nothing to say.
* * *
I expected Matshi would join us soon, as himself, and I was not disappointed. Only he, too, like Spud, wasn’t quite himself. His violet skin had faded to a pale lavender, and, instead of his usual confidence, he was radiating shame.
“We both had … visions,” I said gently, nodding at Spud.
“Memories,” said Spud, his tone dull.
Matshi looked from one of us to the other and then responded with only one word, “Ulenem.”
Nothing more needed to be said. We all sat silently in front of the sizzling fire, staring at our feet, and waited for Pallas.
Catascope 101 had taught us all to play along with our captors until we could manage an escape. After Pallas joined us, we would try to plan our getaway. Hopefully, he too would be arriving soon. But, in what condition?
Worried, I would occasionally glance over at Spud, who continued to stare at the crackling fire with an expression of horror that seemed frozen in time. Spud had never talked to me, or probably anyone else, about the atrocity he had witnessed in his childhood. And I had never admitted to him that I had stumbled on a brief summary of that event in Mingferplatoi Library records during our training years, when I was researching his biodata to get info that might give me an edge in our grav combat re-match. Years before, I discovered to my shock, Spud had observed his father walk in on his mother in the arms of her lover and shoot her to death. Thinking of my own kid brothers, I couldn’t begin to imagine the devastation that scene must have carved on a little boy’s heart and mind. No wonder Spud spoke very little about his family, even to me.
My attempts to reach out a comforting arm were repeatedly brushed off by my partner, who would not even turn towards me to meet my solicitous gaze. Matshi seemed somewhat more in control of his emotions, but it was clear that his thoughts were still with his own partner and friend. I thought I heard him mutter the word “betrayal” at least once as he kept wringing his multiple hands.
And I, I could not get that image of John enveloped by the Golden Fleece out of my mind. Could my beloved brother, whom I had so idolized throughout my relatively short life, be a traitor to everything he preached and everything he stood for? No, not the John I knew. But was there a John, or a part of John, that I didn’t know …?
Our painful ruminations were soon superseded by our growing alarm that Pallas still hadn’t returned. Had he been hurt or killed by Benedict or his Andarts, or, worse, had he sold out to the enemy? Finally, despite our reluctance to abandon our companion, the three of us decided we could safely wait no longer. We spoke quietly in Zygan, hoping not to be overheard.
“I don’t know,” Matshi insisted, shaking his head. “He’s Sarion’s mate. Who can predict, who—” he choked on the word—“can be swayed to the other side.”
I put my arm around his shoulders, and rubbed his neck, adding reluctantly, “We may have to make a move without Pallas, I’m afraid.”
Still gripping his handkerchief tightly, Spud nodded. “I agree. I also expect that Eikhus must surely have called in the Zygan cavalry by now, so we should be seeing a rescue attempt well before this planet-ship nears Zyga. Our best bet is to suss out as much of Benedict’s base as we are able so that we can take up arms and assist our rescuers once they arrive.”
“And, once we’re secure,” I reassured Matshi, “we can come back for Pallas. We will come back.”
Matshi wrung his hands for a few more minutes, before turning to face us. “All right,” he said softly. “Lead the way.”
I walked over and peeked out the door of the sitting room. There was no sign of Benedict or the Andarts. I gestured for my friends to follow. We crept through the front hall, and, seeing that the front door was unlocked, opened it carefully. Nothing happened. I mean the door opened and nothing happened. Shrugging, we eased out of the house and ran back down the cobblestone path into the field of colorful flowers. Ahead, however, instead of the green or yellow membrane we expected, was a grassy meadow extending in all directions to the horizon. I turned to look behind us, and gasped when I saw that the cobblestone path and the cottage were no longer visible. Finding a grove of trees, we stopped to regroup.
“This is strange,” I said to the guys. “Where’s the house?”
“Even more strange,” Matshi concurred, “Why have the people in the house let us escape?”
“Why not?” shrugged Spud, waving an arm at the panorama of flowers in which we were now lost. “It is not like we are able to truly go anywhere. This is simply a more pleasant prison.”
Unwilling to buy Spud’s assessment, I tried to retrace our steps back to the cottage. Or where the cottage should have been. Matshi followed me for a few yards, turning back frequently to make sure that Spud, who had chosen to stay put, was still in view. Despite my certainty that we were going in the right direction, I was unable to locate either the path or the house. Stretching for miles everywhere we looked was more meadow. Matshi threw up his hands and returned to where Spud was standing, arms crossed. Finally, after trying a few different routes, I trudged back to join my companions, utterly discouraged. Spud kindly didn’t say “I told you so”.
“There has to be a way out of here,” I said, sighing, “without our Ergals.”
Spud brightened and slapped his forehead. “Thank you! That’s the answer!”
Matshi and I looked at him, surprised. “How?” we both said together. (Followed by a stereo “Jinx”.)
“Simplicity itself,” Spud smiled. “We get out of here by using ka’vyr.”
Matshi’s puzzled expression soon gave way to a grin. “Sure. It even makes sense.”
Spud gave Matshi a peeved look. He turned to me. “Are we verily in a field, a glen of grass? Or are we on a planet? Or a ship? Or somewhere else…?” He took my h
and and squeezed it for a second. “Let us find out where we truly are, and where we are able to go.”
We all held hands and closed our eyes, starting the breathing cycles that herald Stage 2 ka’vyr. When we finally opened our eyes, several minutes later, we were no longer “out to pasture”. We were standing, hands clasped, in the center of the cavernous chamber that held the three domes.
“Very good,” Matshi said with a broad smile as he patted Spud on the back. “Now what?”
I looked around the empty chamber, and wondered briefly, once again, what had happened to all the spheres. No time to investigate now. I shrugged and nodded at one of the domes. “How about we visit our friend Fahrquardt again? If I remember my signage, I think his office might be just up the hall from the ship’s comm department. Maybe we can send get in there and send out an SOS.”
Spud nodded, and we trekked back to Fahrquardt’s dome, diffusing through the membrane into the banal hall. Three doors down from Fahrquardt’s office, we found the suite for the “Coordinator of Communications and Connections,” and, with some help from Spud’s nimble fingers and Matshi’s strong kicks, soon broke open the security system and entered the suite.
The reception area was dark and deserted. It seemed as if the entire suite was devoid of humanoid life. All we heard was some faint buzzing from an adjacent room, so we crept closer to investigate.
“Anthophila?” I whispered, as Spud eased open the door.
“Nope,” Matshi returned. “Antennae.”
Lining one wall of the adjoining room was an enormous functioning comm network. Much of the operating equipment stacked from floor to ceiling had displays in languages none of us recognized, and seemed far more advanced than the machines that populated Earth Core or Zygint Central. Geeky Ev Weaver would drool a river over a chance to work with this machinery; but even he’d need to spend quite a few months learning how to use it, Spud ventured, in the uncharted manufacturing plants of M81 or M82 where it was probably built.
