by S M Briscoe
The ensuing silence hung for a long moment, like a stale fog in the air, before Shu’ma took a step forward towards the visibly horrified security team. Durak’s troop squads now looked on from their scattered positions around the bay with obvious interest. He wanted everyone’s attention. The single, brutal action ensured that he would have it.
“The Gods do not tolerate weakness,” he began, slowly. “And neither will I. Let this serve as a warning. The penalty for incompetence . . . is your life.”
The mechanical interpreter had barely completed its translation when the remaining half of their warriors leapt forward from behind Rho’uk, at a gesture from Shu’ma, cutting down what was left of the security team before any of them could release more than a few muffled gasps of pain.
Though his gaze was still working over the platoon of startled soldiers around him, Rho’uk knew that Shu’ma’s warning had not been directed solely at them. He suspected that the High Commander had also caught the true meaning of the veiled threat. It was not unexpected. Shu’ma hadn’t kept his feelings of displeasure hidden from either of them. Normally, it would have been ill advised for even such a seasoned warrior as Shu’ma to so obviously threaten someone of Durak’s stature and military power. Many highly placed Sect bureaucrats had met their ends at his hands for far less. He held command over, as well as the respect and admiration, of all branches of the Sect’s great war machine. Though bound by duty to the Dominion, the soldiers’ loyalty was to him. They fought for and followed their High Commander.
But, Durak himself was bound to something much larger than all of those things. Before his army or the Dominion. He was devout in his loyalty to the Gods and it was for this reason that Shu’ma could say what he wished without backlash. Durak would not disobey or question what he took to be the wishes of the Gods and therefore, he would bare the insult.
An officer approached Durak from across the floor and saluted, looking noticeably uncomfortable as the High Commander finally forced his glare, with obvious effort, from Shu’ma to rest on him. His voice was a harsh growl as he ordered him to speak.
“Sir,” the mechanical translator began, rendering the officer’s words into Usan as he spoke, “the port security feeds have been retrieved from Trycon’s databanks and are ready for your viewing.”
The interruption was a welcome one, as Rho’uk was beginning to feel that, Gods or no Gods, Durak was on the verge of losing his composure. A direct, and possibly physical, confrontation between Shu’ma and the High Commander, or any of either rival’s followers, would have severe consequences for everyone involved, and would only serve to hinder their mission’s progress. Whether or not any of them were pleased with the current arrangement, some kind of common ground would need to be found, or they would fail in their mandate. The officer’s news served as an obvious reminder of what they were here for, and brought both Shu’ma and Durak out of their personal feud for a moment.
Following the officer, they proceeded to the bay’s upper control room where a number of the local security personnel, being overseen by Dominion troops, worked the various control stations. They were led to one of the stations with a large wall mounted display screen that was divided into multiple sections, all displaying different frozen views of the dock below. Once they had all gathered around the display, the officer directed the station operator to proceed.
The frozen images began to play forward as the officer spoke over them. “The assailants attempted to erase all video recordings of their escape. Luckily, all security feeds are streamed to a central database at TrySec headquarters. It took some time to locate the proper time line recording file for this dock, but we’ve been successful.”
“We are short on time, Lieutenant,” Durak grumbled, impatiently.
“Of course,” the officer apologized. He gave the station operator a nudge, ordering him to proceed.
One of the display sections expanded to fill the full screen, playing an accelerated recording of a wide view of the dock. The picture zoomed in on an area outside of the lift tube they had used to access the control room, slowing to real time speed when a human male and female approached the lift.
“The assailants,” the officer continued, “attempted to access the dock control room before security forces had arrived to lock down the docking bay.”
The recording was again magnified to show a closer view of the pair as they seemed to be attempting to access the lift’s controls.
“They apparently utilized some sort of hacking device to gain access to the secured control pad, but were forced to leave upon the arrival of the dock security-mech.”
The recording was accelerated again, showing the pair leave, a group of local security and a Gnolith Sect military officer eventually coming into view and entering the lift. Two security officers remained behind as guards to the lift. The image slowed to real time again. The human female reappeared and approached the guards, a conversation taking place between the three. The group moved away from the lift doors. Shortly after, the human male came into view, moving in behind the guards to access the lift, the female having acted as a diversion.
The image shrank back to its original size on the sectional display and another was immediately enlarged, this one a recording of the very control room they were in. The human male entered the room, moving quickly, attacking and neutralizing the local security with a great degree of efficiency. A brawl ensued between the human and remaining Gnolith officer, ending quickly with the officer’s death. The assault lasted only seconds and then the human seemed to begin issuing orders to the remaining control operators.
The narrating officer continued to describe what was happening on the display, but Rho’uk stopped paying attention, focusing on the human in the recording. The human he had faced and been bested by.
“This is the human?” Shu’ma asked, cutting into the officer’s narration, who stopped, obviously not understanding the question.
“Yes,” Rho’uk answered.
Shu’ma took a step towards the display. “Show me his face.”
After their translator had conveyed the order, the officer immediately obeyed, magnifying the recording and slowing its speed until a clear image of the human face came into view.
Rho’uk heard Durak grumble incredulously and glanced over to where he stood, staring at the display in disbelief.
“Impossible,” the High Commander spat. “I watched him die.”
“Apparently,” Shu’ma said, not bothering to face Durak as he spoke, “you were mistaken.” Instead he looked towards the narrating officer.
“Where is the heretic?” he demanded.
The officer again nudged the control operator and the images on the display began to change.
“The recordings allow us to see which vessel the assailants escaped aboard,” the officer said, nervously. “We were then able to view earlier recordings of the entire group upon their arrival to the dock.”
The recording tracked backwards at high speed for a moment before stopping on an enlarged view of the dock entrance. The human male and female, along with two more humans and a smaller, partially concealed being entered through the large bay doors. The recording changed to show another closer view of the group as they approached a docked transport, all but the male and female from the earlier recordings eventually boarding. The image slowed and was magnified again to show a closer image of the small concealed being and then froze on a clear image of her face.
Rho’uk stared at the image, curiously, taking in the being’s delicate features and large intelligent looking eyes. Strange that a being so frail could be seen as such a great threat. He knew better than to judge an adversary on appearance though. His encounter with the human surely reminded him of that.
“We will find that ship, High Commander.” Shu’ma’s gaze remained transfixed on the frozen image of the small being as he spoke. “Failure will not be permitted again. I will have this heretic . . . and I will personally drink the blood of those wh
o have aided her, be it the will of the Gods.”
Chapter 18
Fresh, cold air filled Elora’s lungs as she took her first steps onto the snow covered forest floor of the mountain valley Orna had directed Kern to land them in. She closed her eyes against the cool evening breeze as it caressed her face, washing the sweet scents of the surrounding foliage over her. The sensation soothed her strained nerves and she welcomed the momentary relief it brought, but that short moment was all she would allow herself. She needed her focus to stay on the pain she felt. Her guilt and fear and anger. She owed her brother nothing less.
She had abandoned him. Left him behind to save herself. That wasn’t entirely true, but how would Ethan have seen it? What would he be feeling right now? Betrayal? Would he hate her for having left him to whatever terrible fate lie ahead of him? She had been asking herself the same questions over and over since they had boarded that gunship, nearly driving herself mad in the process. The concerned looks she received when anyone’s eyes happened to meet hers told her she wasn’t the only one who thought so. At this point she didn’t really care. When she had been faced with the sickening reality that they would not be going after her brother, she had felt as though she were dying. More than once since then, she’d wished she had.
The others were surveying the area around the landing site, Orna trailing only a short ways behind her as Elora slowly moved away from the ship’s boarding ramp. The small being had said they would find a safe harbor here while seeing about ship repairs. It seemed like an unlikely place for a spaceport, and as far as she could see from their approach, there didn’t appear to be any kind of buildings or structures whatsoever.
Jarred, who had become as quiet as she since nearing the mountains, was staring out into the forested area that surrounded them. He almost appeared to be dazed, his attention transfixed on something unseen beyond the tree line. She had taken a step toward him to ask what was wrong when she heard Kern call out.
“This place is perfect. Nobody would ever think to look for us here. Now if we could just find the repair shop.”
“Give it a rest, Kern,” Sierra replied, sounding equally annoyed with the situation.
“Hey, I’m not one to complain-” he went on.
“Oh, really?” Sierra jested.
“But, why did she bring us here?” Kern finished, more quietly. “When she said she knew a place, I would have thought she was referring to something more substantial than this.”
“You’re not alone there,” she agreed.
“I mean . . . I could have landed us in a few, middle of nowhere, places all on my own if I’d known we were purposely trying to strand ourselves.”
“Alright,” Sierra cut him off. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m just saying . . .” he returned, looking around. “What are we doing here? Sensors didn’t pick up anything on the way in. No technology. No life signs.”
“Well, there’s obviously some life,” she commented, sounding a bit wary. “Look around.”
Even in her own dazed state, that seemed to catch Elora’s attention. This mountain was obviously teeming with plant life, though winterized as it was. Their ship’s scanners should have at least picked up the life readings it would have given off.
“Yeah,” he returned. “We should have picked up something.”
“Makes you wonder what else is down here that we didn’t pick up. Just hit the flood lights. Let’s see if we can’t get a better look around.”
Elora glanced back to see Kern punch a command into the remote he was holding and the ship’s outboard lights shone to life, illuminating the forest around them. She squinted against the sudden brightness and turned away from the harsh lights to allow her eyes time to adjust, screaming aloud as she found herself staring into the dark, menacing eyes of a stalky, gray skinned creature standing close enough to reach out and grab her, which it did, before her cry had left her. Toppling to the ground with the growling being atop of her, she heard Kern’s own surprised yelp and caught a glimpse of him attempting to draw his sidearm, only to be tackled from above by another of the creatures that had leapt down at him from the hull of the ship.
As she struggled against her attacker, Elora saw dozens more of the gray beings emerging from the surrounding darkness, leaping from trees and bushes into the floodlit landing area. Somewhere outside of her field of vision she could hear Sierra shouting something, but was unable to work herself into a position to see her as she felt her arms pinned to the ground by a pair of vice like hands.
Jarred’s voice called out to her and she craned her neck around to see him running in her direction, only to have two more of the gray blurs barrel into him, sending them all tumbling out of sight in a tangled mass.
Her heart pounding with anger and frustration, Elora fought with all of her strength to wrestle free of her attacker’s seemingly unbreakable hold, its weight pressing down on her, forcing the air from her lungs.
“Get off!” she roared into the face of the creature, as she gasped for air. “Get off of me!” Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she continued to scream at the immovable object holding her in place, her growing rage fueled by her own panic and sense of helplessness, unable to even budge the bulky mass.
The multitude of emotions that had been eating away at her insides since losing Ethan flooded to the surface like a tidal wave, enveloping her entirely. She had been unable to protect him, watching impotently as he was taken away from her and now, pinned to the ground and rendered virtually paralyzed by her attacker, the rising feeling of hopeless desperation threatened to consume her.
She screamed again at the gray being, focusing all of her volcanic rage at it, as if her pure ferocity would force it to retreat, but the creature only stared back at her, its dark eyes unflinching. She expected to see some primal, animal malice in its face, but there was none. What little she could read of its alien features, it seemed calm and subdued. Even concerned. Concerned for what, though? As she continued to fight futilely against the creature’s solid grip on her arms, she began to realize that the pain and discomfort she felt was being caused by her own resistance and not the brute force of her attacker. Though she was being held firmly, no real trauma had been inflicted.
Elora began to relax her tensed muscles, cautiously, still half expecting the creature to try and take a bite out of her, and tried to focus on steadying her breathing. To her surprise and relief, the gray being didn’t move in for the kill, but continued to stare down at her with curious eyes, actually loosening its tight hold on her. The change wasn’t quite enough to allow her the freedom to move, but it did give her some more breathing space.
The slight gesture went off like a beacon in Elora’s mind and she suddenly realized what the creature had been showing concern for. It was concerned for her. Not wasting time examining how she had come to the conclusion, or what her reasoning was for it, she proceeded in the hope that she was correct.
“Please,” she asked gently, between her now much calmer breaths. “Let me go.”
The creature’s near black eyes seemed to be examining her, and behind them she saw a spark of comprehension, an intelligence she hadn’t noticed in her earlier frantic state. It understood her. She was sure of it. Before she had time to test her theory again, the creature’s attention was drawn away by a familiar voice.
“Be still, honored friends.” Orna’s soothingly melodic words hovered strangely in the air, delicate and gentle, yet crystal clear over the surrounding commotion, which was beginning to die off. “Do not be frightened. We wish you no harm.”
Elora turned to look in the direction of Orna’s voice, but instantly realized she didn’t know where exactly it had come from. It had originated from nowhere in particular . . . and everywhere, as if they were in a confined space, her voice an echo that bounced off the surrounding walls. She would have thought the voice was in her head if not for the gray being atop of her having reacted to it as well. The creature also see
med confused about the origin of the voice, staring up into the surrounding trees, as if searching for it. A quick glance around showed that the rest of the gray beings, apparently distracted as well, had halted their attacks on the others and were similarly searching the tree line for the source of the voice.
With the strange diversion, she took the opportunity to work her way out from under her attacker, who did not attempt to stop her, and finally spotted Orna, calmly standing at the base of the ship ramp.
Orna’s voice continued, still a fluttery echo, though strangely her mouth did not move to form the words. “We come to you now at this most crucial time, with one who is worthy of that which you protect.”
Elora was completely unaware of what Orna’s voice meant, but somehow the word’s made her feel surprisingly calm. As the others, along with their stalky gray attackers, were now standing with their combined attention on Orna, all with similar looks of confusion that probably matched her own, she guessed she wasn’t alone in that feeling.
* * *
They were watching him.
The Toguai, as Orna had called them, had monitored Jarred and the others closely while leading them through the heavily forested mountain valley, even more so now as they neared what he took to be their village.
Comprised of multiple cliffside dwellings, their entire habitat looked to be little more than a series of burrowed out holes in the mountain wall. As primitive as the village looked, Jarred could understand why they would be apprehensive about bringing in a group of outsiders, but it was more than apprehension that he was sensing from them now. They were watching him with an interest beyond that of the others and their curious glances were beginning to put him on edge.
It didn’t help that he couldn’t shake the strange feelings of familiarity he had been having since nearing the landing site. Upon landing, the hairs on the back of his neck had been standing on end and the feeling hadn’t diminished any. Something about this place was making him feel uneasy, though intuitively he didn’t feel as if they were in any danger. In a strange way, he almost felt drawn to the place, which only served to trouble him more. He tried to ignore the feeling and focused on the village they were being led into.
