by Selby, Caleb
“What do you want?” said Darion, hoping he would once again be able to work up the nerve.
“I’m really not sure what to say,” said Armid with an unpleasant smile.
“Try,” muttered Darion.
“Well,” said Armid, nearly unable to contain his excitement. “Before you kill yourself I wanted to thank you for all your cooperation over the last several months. None of what is about to happen could have without you. I am forever in your debt.”
Darion shook his head as he realized that, true to Kebbs’ warning, his office had been bugged.
“Not surprised?” Armid added, disappointed with Darion’s lack of reaction.
“I put it all together last night after your people took Reesa.”
Armid shook his head. “I’m surprised, I really am. After working with you all this time I had assumed you were incapable of independent thought. But I guess I can’t be right about everything.”
“What do you want Armid?” Darion muttered. “What more can you do or take from me than you already have?”
Armid shrugged. “Nothing. I just wanted you to realize that it was I all along. It gives a certain amount of job satisfaction you could say.”
Darion didn’t react. His fight had already been extinguished.
“Well, I guess I better run,” said Armid in a disturbingly cheerful voice. “I need to finish interrogating Reesa this afternoon and organize a welcoming committee for the Krohns. So much to do and so little time.”
Darion looked up in surprise. “She...is still alive?”
Armid smiled sadistically. “Reesa? Yes, for the moment,” he said and then chuckled. “But I have very...shall we say, invasive techniques when it comes to interrogations. She won’t last the night I’m afraid, although she is surprisingly strong for a woman. I have a feeling she wasn’t always a concierge; I guess I’ll find that out during our...chat.”
“Leave her alone!” Darion yelled. “She has done nothing to you! Take me in her place!”
Armid chuckled. “Take you? You must be joking! At least this woman knows something! The only thing you know is where to get a really overpriced haircut! No thanks General. I don’t want you!”
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” yelled Darion.
“You and what army?” said Armid mockingly. “Oh wait, you don’t have one!”
“Trivis will stop you!” Darion said. “I have his personal link frequency. He’ll know all about you within the hour!”
Armid smirked. “It is obvious your usefulness has reached its end Darion. Now do the planet a little favor and finish the job you started before I contacted you. Ok?”
“What...what if I give you the Origin Codex?” Darion suddenly shouted out, remembering the scrap of paper in his pocket and taking a rather large gamble that it was relevant.
Armid looked up at Darion in complete shock. “You...you have the Codex?” he stammered.
“Will you let her go if I give it to you?” asked Darion, realizing that he had just discovered a bargaining chip that he did not actually have.
“Where is it?” asked Armid.
“Do you want to deal or no?” repeated Darion. “Its not a trick question.”
Armid looked at Darion critically before gradually nodding. “You better not be messing with me.”
“And you better not touch Reesa,” snapped Darion.
“Where and when?” pressed Armid.
Darion shook his head. “We’ll be in touch,” he then said and cut the link in what he hoped would be a show of confidence when it was really just the opposite. The moment the link was cut, Darion dove back into his desk drawer, reclaimed his weapon, tucked it in his belt and quickly made his way toward the door. The Sentinel response teams could reach any location within the city in mere minutes, meaning that he had precious little time to get out before it was too late.
As he ran out of the building and sprinted down the street, he marveled how he had been a mere finger squeeze from ending his own life. Now he was running through the streets trying to stay alive and hopefully save the life of a woman he had known for only two days!
***
Commander Sanders gazed forlornly out his window aboard the Bolter, his metal home away from home. Blue waves of translucent light flowed steadily past the circular window, taking his mind back to the horrific events of the last several days. The Sixth fleet had burned out from beneath him. His beloved daughter had perished with the Second Fleet, which dulled the otherwise disastrous news that the Third fleet had also been destroyed. The fact that a Krohn battle group was even now closing in on Namuh Prime hardly fazed him. He was so emotionally drained that he had nothing left to give, nothing left to feel. The critical past several days had given Sanders precious little time to dwell on his sorrows or grieve his loss. Quick actions and split second decisions were required to keep his ship and crew one step ahead of sharing fates similar to so many other ships and crews. His emotional distress was not a luxury he could indulge in.
In truth, Sanders felt guilty with how little he had mourned his daughter’s demise. He had of course loved her dearly, but the distance created by serving in different fleets had a paradoxical soothing affect when he had heard the news, as if the displacement made the loss less real somehow.
Sanders shook his head and walked away from his window, tossing his shirt on the floor before collapsing on his bed. A wave of somnolence came over him almost instantly. He had nearly succumbed when he turned to his nightstand and looked at a picture of his daughter and himself when she was but a young girl of five. Sanders lay in his bed starring at the picture, marveling at the joy and contentment on his face all those years ago. His eyes then slowly turned to his daughter. She wore his uniform hat on her head, which came down and covered one of her deep brown eyes. She was smiling from ear to ear. How she had adored him.
Sanders looked at the photo thoughtfully for sometime as an avalanche of memories suddenly came upon him; places they had gone together, conversations long since forgotten returned in vivid detail and the strong bonds of fatherly love once again resounded in his soul. The emotional insulation of being separated for the last several months slowly slipped away as he carefully picked up the picture and held it close to his chest. A steady flow of tears followed him to sleep.
***
Twelve hours after arriving in the barren Guardian Star System, the Sixth Fleet continued to make good time toward their next jump. All had been calm since their entry, the first extended interval of calm the fleet had experienced since the attack several days earlier. Many used the uneventful hours to catch up on some badly needed rest or take care of duties that had been neglected during the more turbulent days following the escape from Namuh Prime.
The Iovara Bridge was particularly quiet, especially for the customarily commotion filled flagship of the fleet. The main officer contingent including Jonas and Kesler were off duty, their posts filled by young corporals in training. Even the ambitious and seemingly untiring Tarkin, was noticeably absent from the bridge. Only Gallo was present among the tenured officers and he wasn’t much for company. He sat at his station adjusting knobs and fiddling with dials all the while staring into his multiple interface screens.
Fedrin yawned as he scrolled through screens on his data pad outlining the terrain of the Guardian system. Arguably, the most worthless system claimed under the jurisdiction of the Namuh Protective Federation, the Guardian Star System was devoid of habitable planets, useful mining sites, or frankly anything else of value. Nothing more then a few small asteroid clusters broke up the monotony of the otherwise barren star system.
Fedrin yawned again and glanced over at his empty lor mug. He picked it up and was just about to step off his command platform when a warning alarm suddenly sounded at Kesler’s station. Normally the alarm would have been just one of many going off on the bridge at any given time, but with the sedated atmosphere, the alarm made everyone on the bridge jump. Ensign Gallo, whose station was
adjacent to Kesler’s, quickly darted out of his chair and investigated.
Fedrin placed his mug on his chair and also walked over.
Gallo rapidly tapped several keys on the main control panel and then looked up at Fedrin. “Sir, long range scanners just picked up a radio signature in the asteroid belt dead ahead.”
“Do we have a fix on it?” Fedrin asked as he looked over Gallo’s shoulder.
Gallo shook his head as he tried to clean up the signal. “No, Sir. It’s fuzzy, probably due to the asteroid interference.”
“Could it be a drone?” Fedrin asked as he looked at the radio waves.
“I don’t think so, Sir, at least not any kind of drone that I’ve seen before. See here, these radio waves aren’t packed the way a fleet recon drone’s would be,” Gallo said, pointing to a small box of wavy lines on his screen.
“Any idea what it could be then?”
Gallo shrugged. “Not really.”
“Crud,” Fedrin said under his breath. They had been making such great time through the system that he hated to take emergency action now, but he had no choice. “Alright,” Fedrin said shaking his head as he walked back to his chair. “Have all vessels go to silent running mode. Kill all nonessential ship systems and order a ban on raised talking and recreational music.”
“Aye, Sir,” Gallo said as he began typing up the commands.
“Get Commander Drezden on the link for me,” Fedrin added.
“Right away, Sir,” replied the corporal at Tarkin’s station.
“Pipe him over here when it’s established,” Fedrin said as he grabbed his mug and sat back in his chair.
A few moments later, Drezden’s sleepy face filled Fedrin’s private transmission screen affixed to his command chair.
“Hey Fedrin...I mean hello, Sir. What can I do for you?” Drezden said between several deep yawns.
“Sorry to bother you Drezden, but I have a job for you,” Fedrin said.
“Oh?” Drezden asked as he rubbed his eyes and looked around his room for a clock. “Everything ok?”
“We caught a spook in the asteroid field but we can’t get a fix on it.”
“Any chance it’s just a recon drone?” Drezden asked.
“My man here says no,” Fedrin answered, shaking his head. “And my man is never wrong.”
Gallo heard Fedrin’s comments and suppressed a smile.
Drezden sighed. “You want us to investigate it then?”
Fedrin nodded. “You have the fastest ship in the fleet and we can’t very well leave a radio signal this close to our home system unchecked, especially on a mission as delicate as this one.”
“Understood,” Drezden said. “We’ll check it out.”
“Be quick,” Fedrin remarked. “I don’t want you falling too far behind the rest of us.”
“Got it,” Drezden said.
“Oh, and if you need it, we’ll be on page six,” Fedrin added.
Drezden paused and then nodded casually. “Page six. No problem. We’ll get the job done,” Drezden said and then terminated the transmission.
“All ships in silent mode, Sir,” Gallo said as Fedrin looked up.
Fedrin nodded. “Send a low frequency coded text transmission to the fleet.”
“Ready, Sir.”
“Page six,” said Fedrin.
Gallo looked up. “You said ‘page six’, Sir?”
“You got it Ensign,” Fedrin said as he brought his mug to his lips. “Page six.”
16. Dancing in the Asteroids
“The party you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again later,” the automated response of Senator Trivis’s local link frequency said yet again. Darion shook his head and switched off his link.
The night air was unseasonably cool, prompting Darion to button up his jacket and pull up his collar. He then thrust his hands deep into his pockets, his fingers feeling the cool metal of the lydeg ring adapter he had recovered from the dinner table the night previous. Holding the adapter in his hand, Darion thought of Reesa, wondering if she was even alive.
Darion leaned against the tree and stared up at his darkened apartment windows ten floors up. The thought of his nice warm bed and frozen meals waiting to be tossed into the thermal radiator tormented him. More than once he nearly decided to walk across the street and take the elevator up to his room, but each time he thought it, images of Reesa being carried away by Armid’s men flooded his mind and he held his ground.
“Hey bud,” an old grubby man with an unkempt beard said as he appeared from seemingly nowhere.
Darion looked back in surprise, clutching his pistol in his pocket tightly. “Can I help you?” he asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.
“You got a stick?” the old man asked, eyeing Darion’s pockets for any hints that he carried a pack.
Darion looked around uneasily before he shook his head. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry lad,” the old man said waving his hands and shaking his head eccentrically. “They’re no good for you anyhow, just no good. Stay away from them, if you haven’t started them already. That’s what my father always said, but did I listen? Nope! I thought I knew better than him. Curse me for thinking so. You stay away from them and all the other wiles out there. You hear me lad? They’re just no good for you!”
“I will,” Darion said and nodded, hoping the man wasn’t drawing any undue attention.
“Just no good for you,” the old man said to himself as he continued to walk down the sidewalk. “Just no good at all. Should have listened to Dad. But did I?” The old man’s ramblings trailed off into the darkness.
Darion shook his head and looked back up. He sighed heavily and watched as his breath formed a small cloud that quickly dissipated. A patrol craft flew over his building compelling him to step on the other side of the tree, just in case. After it passed, Darion cautiously stepped back out and looked up and down the street. He had done nothing wrong and yet was forced to feel like a fugitive. Half a day earlier he had been one of the most powerful and influential men in the city. Now he had nowhere to spend the night.
A beep sounded on his wrist and Darion glanced down and looked as his link flashed an incoming transmission from Trivis. “This is Darion,” he said emphatically, relieved that he had finally gotten through to his last ranking contact in the city.
“Darion!” Trivis exclaimed. “I’m so glad you’re ok. We’ve all been trying to find you.”
“My army is gone!” Darion blurted out. “Armid orchestrated the whole thing!”
“He fooled a lot of people,” said Trivis sadly. “We’re looking for him too. Now tell me General, where are you now?”
“I’m...in my apartment,” Darion hesitantly answered as he suddenly realized he had no great reason to trust Trivis anymore than he had Armid.
“Really?” exclaimed Trivis. “We stopped by there an hour ago and no one answered our knocks.”
“I’m hiding from Armid,” Darion quickly added. “He said he was going to kill me.”
“He’s not going to kill you General. Now tell me, where is the Codex?”
“Well actually I...I don’t remember telling you anything about the Codex,” Darion stammered, realizing sadly that Trivis was indeed an enemy.
Trivis paused briefly before answering. “We were monitoring Armid’s transmissions,” he finally said. “We overhead you tell him that you had it. Sorry for the breach of privacy General but it was for your own good. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” answered Darion in what he hoped was a convincing tone.
“So where is it?” asked Trivis again. “We need to find it and secure it so Armid doesn’t get it.”
“Its hidden in the Larep Central bank,” Darion lied. “Its in a private vault within the main bank corridor.”
“What’s the vault number?” asked Trivis.
“Forty-two,” answered Darion, hoping that there was indeed a vault forty-two.
; “Ok. I’m sending some of my people there now. In the meantime just stay put. Until we find Armid you could be in danger.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” answered Darion as he tried to think of his next move.
“Good,” answered Trivis. “I’ll see you soon.”
Darion didn’t even have time to take a step away when several enormous roars suddenly erupted from somewhere in the night sky. He looked up just in time to spot fire streams of two missiles as they effortlessly tore through the air until they smashed through his apartment windows. The tremendous explosion that followed nearly sent Darion flying to the ground.
As he regained his stance, he noticed multiple Sentinels in full fireproof combat armor, appear from seemingly nowhere and begin to storm the building. Their movements were rehearsed and eerily silent. Darion shook his head and began to step away quietly. He was way out of his league and he knew it. If it came down to a fire match, he and his pistol would be of little consequence against the highly trained tactical combat units matched against him.
He had just turned to walk away when he suddenly felt the muzzle of a gun press hard into his back.
“What are you doing out here?” a gruff voiced asked as he spun Darion around to see his face.
Darion looked into the darkened helmet of a Sentinel and shrugged. “Enjoying the night air?”
The Sentinel wasn’t amused. With one quick strike he smote Darion across the head with the stock of his gun. Darion fell to his hands and knees, recovering from the blow and trying to fight off the urge to black out.
“I’ll ask you again,” the Sentinel said and lowered the muzzle until it touched Darion’s temple. “What are you doing out here?”
“He already answered you,” another voice suddenly sounded out from the darkness.
