Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid

by S M Briscoe

  The fact that the turrets were remote units, and not built into the chamber itself, told Jarred the room probably wasn’t a cell at all, but had been converted into one for him specifically. Even the mounting that secured his shock gauntlet’s cables appeared to have been newly installed. From that, he could surmise that this facility was, most likely, not even a detention center in itself. If that was the case, it would not have detention center level security either, though he guessed, wherever he was, that it would be formidable regardless.

  At the very least, contemplating the possibilities, or impossibilities as they may have been, kept his mind occupied and on something other than his physical discomfort and whatever plans the Sect had in mind for him.

  Jarred was jostled from his thoughts by the distinct sound of magnetized locks disengaging, those of the cell’s blast door, followed by the satisfying sight of the auto turrets shutting down. The cell door opened, allowing the first light, though coldly artificial, that Jarred had seen in days to flood into the room. The three guards that entered were adorned, not in the usual military grade armor he had seen so much of lately, but that of the elite Sect Security Forces.

  That, in and of itself, intrigued him. Their presence here told him a number of things, one being that he was in a facility of high importance. A governance building of some kind. More than that, it also narrowed the list of possible locales he had been brought to. The primary purpose of the SSF being to protect and secure the interests and infrastructure of the Dominion governing body and it’s high ranking officials, as a sort of secret police, the elite task force only operated on the core governing worlds. As Jarred had already concluded he was being held in a land based facility, the SSF’s presence meant that he had to be on one of those worlds.

  That revelation sent Jarred’s mind into overdrive. Why had he been brought to a core world? He could have been interrogated for information on the whereabouts of Orna or on the details of Kern and Sierra’s resistance group, or executed for his recent actions against the Sect military on any world or ship or space station. He had to conclude that he was brought here for something else, though some or all of those other things could and probably would take place as well.

  Two of the heavily armored guards approached to either side of him, one remaining in front with his rifle trained steadily on Jarred’s chest, the other three holding their positions at the open hatchway. The two nearest guards proceeded to deactivate the shock gauntlets on his wrists, catching his weight as he slumped down from the prolonged time spent hanging the way he had, the reaction being only partially exaggerated. His freedom wasn’t long lived, the guards slapping a new set of binders on his wrists, almost as soon as the others had been removed, and connecting them behind his back.

  Led from the cell, and surrounded by his security entourage, he was escorted down a short corridor, the walls of which were made of a glossy stone, instead of the usual cold steel that could be found in most buildings, starships and other facilities, towards another large blast door. Stopping in front of it, one of the guards stepped forward to be identified by the scanning pod mounted into the wall above the door itself. A confirmation chime sounded once the scan was complete and the blast door opened, it’s two halves splitting apart to retract into the floor and ceiling. The hatch opened into a crossing corridor, wider than the one leading from his cell. Another security agent stood just outside the door, remaining in place as they passed through. The crossing corridor curved around in both directions so that he was unable to see where either route led, his escort pushing him out through the hatchway and leading him along it’s left side. They eventually came to yet another blast door, this one much larger than the one they had just passed through, another pair of SSF guardsmen standing to either side of it, telling him something of importance waited on the inside, his intended destination he guessed.

  The doors parted and his suspicions were immediately confirmed, the passage opening up into a massive rounded chamber, much like his cell, though a great deal larger, it’s curved ceiling rising more than three standard stories. It’s walls were stone, similar in style to the outside corridor, but far more elaborate in their artistry, carvings and strange inscriptions adorning nearly every inch of the room’s surface area, including the numerous pillars which formed a smaller circle at it’s center. Also outlining the room’s apparent focal point, within the perimeter of the pillars, were a number of large statues, carved from glossy stone. Solitary figures, they were sitting in throne-like seats facing inward, as though in council with one another, each of them humanoid in basic form, one plainly female, though none were human or any other living being.

  Jarred recognized their features, though rendered many times over by countless artists in different styles and mediums, their general likenesses were unmistakable. Their presences, though reproduced in stone were eerily powerful and intimidating. Dark and looming, they were fittingly supernatural in appearance, while at the same time, horrifying. The mythical beings depicted in the stone were worshipped and feared the system over by those who believed, and feared still by those who didn’t, for their followers, many of which were the governing rulers of this system, controlled the fates of all.

  They were Gods. Usarions to be more precise. The Gods of this system. This Universe. Of everything, depending on who you asked. True believers or infidels. Skeptics or delusional cultists. It all depended on which side you were standing. Jarred used to know what side of the line he was on. It had all seemed so preposterous, though recently he had begun to rethink a lot of things that had once seemed so clear to him. What was true and untrue. Fact and falsehood. Reality and ridiculous mythology. He had experienced things in the last few days that defied rational explanation and flew in the face of what he thought he knew.

  From the small arrangement of familiar individuals assembled within the room’s epicenter; another circle of stone chairs; most of them almost hungrily regarding his approach, Jarred suspected his search for answers would be at best delayed. Durak was present, as was the scarred warrior and senior Rai Chi who had visited him earlier, the latter glaring at Jarred with such intensity that he suspected the warrior might just lunge across the open floor at him. The three remaining individuals Jarred also recognized, from images that circulated system wide news broadcasts, as high level bureaucrats from the Sect’s central governing and security bodies. The nearest of them was Lyshal Kasdren, the female Chief Director of Sect Intelligence. To her left was Ryus Sarusuz, her counterpart of same title for Sect Security. The third, to Jarred’s astonishment, was none other than Cal Dorion, the Dominion’s own Head of State. It was then that Jarred realized the true enormity of his situation. He had not only been brought to one of the core worlds. He had been brought to the core world. The Homeworld, as it was called. Gaia. And not for the simple purpose of any interrogation. At least not only that. These were some of the most influential and powerful people in the system. It appeared he had fallen into something far larger than he ever could have imagined.

  Strangely, none of the attendees had with them the usual body guard contingent one might expect of such individuals, apart from Jarred’s own entourage. After his guard detail had delivered him into the meeting circle, knocking him down to his knees and anchoring his binders to an outlet on the floor before the small audience, they were also ordered out of the chamber. Even though he was restrained and half of those in attendance were more than able to handle themselves in a fight, the lax security precautions actually shocked him. Within this room was, not only the head of government, but the lead figures of its military, security and intelligence branches as well, all of which would have diligent security teams guarding their every movement at all times. Their absence here could only mean that what was taking place in this room was meant for the present occupants only and would not be leaving it. That didn’t bode very well for him, as it also confirmed the likelihood that he himself would not be leaving it either.

  Kasdren, an exotic looki
ng Farren, who’s yellow feline eyes examined every inch of Jarred, was the first to speak, doing so from her seat in the circle, her colleagues, as well as Durak, similarly seated. “I must say that I was expecting something a bit more . . . substantial, Durak. He is hardly an imposing specimen, even by human standards. However did he manage to give you so much trouble?”

  “I wouldn’t be too quick to judge, Lyshal.” Sarusuz was also eyeing Jarred, with the sort of measured intensity he would expect from a security baron. A tall, very serious looking Breshin, everything from his emotionless expression to rigid posture spoke of a lifetime spent in the military and security fields. “Things aren’t always as they appear. Even an adolescent draknid can prove deadly if left unattended.”

  Kasdren laughed, playfully. “Ryus, you surprise me. I wouldn’t think being in a room with a single restrained human would fill you with such unease. You sound absolutely petrified.”

  Sarusuz eyed her with a look of annoyance. “Hardly. I am merely cautious of everyone and everything, as should you be. I think it foolhardy to put ourselves or our own Head of State at undue and unknown risk without the proper precautions. This locale poses a multitude of security risks. And we know nothing about this . . . human.” He took a moment to regard Dorion seated to his left. “Pardon me for saying as much, Cal, but it is my place to do so.”

  Cal Dorion waved a dismissive hand. “No need for apologies, Ryus,” he replied, his voice calm and regal. “I respect your opinion, but as always, these gatherings require the privacy absent of our usual security precautions. I can assure you, our locale is quite secure, and a necessity for this meeting, as is our guest’s presence, though I don’t foresee him being a problem, at least for much longer.”

  The Head of State’s gaze fell on Jarred and in it he saw a coldness that did not come across in the heavy news vid coverage he had viewed on the politician. He was obviously a good actor, as most politicians would be, but there was something behind the look, outside of the usual deceit or greed he might expect of a bureaucrat, a malice that sent a chill up his spine. There was a darkness to this man, and right now, it seemed to be entirely directed towards him.

  “You needn’t worry, Ryus,” Kasdren added. “The good High Commander and his dogs are here to protect us. Aren’t you, Durak?”

  “What of the savages?” Sarusuz queried. “Are we able to speak freely in their presence?”

  Kasdren snickered. “My guess is they probably lack the capacity to even comprehend simple tradespeak.” She looked towards Durak. “Tell me, High Commander, do they do any tricks? Will they come and sit if I whistle or snap my fingers?”

  Durak remained silent, though his fury seemed barely contained, masked behind an ultra thin layer of forced composure, leaving Jarred to wonder who he would rather exact his wrath on first, himself or the bureaucrats mocking him.

  “Enough,” Dorion interrupted, though not harshly. “We aren’t here to bicker with one another. The Rai Chi have their place here, as do we all.”

  If either of the Rai Chi had understood or been offended by any of Kasdren’s remarks, they didn’t show it. Their attention seemed less fixated on the bureaucratic assemblage than on Jarred himself. He wasn’t sure if their focus, especially that of the elder warrior, was a precaution in the case he attempted some foolhardy advance, or if they simply had no interest in the conversation taking place, the content of which they probably didn’t comprehend anyhow without the presence of an interpreter mech. With not a single mechanical assistant of any kind present, it was yet another sign of the secrecy of this meeting.

  “Very well,” Kasdren replied. “But, seeing as we are not to bicker, what ever shall we talk about? Our operations on Solta, perhaps? Such a terrible tragedy, all those deaths, wouldn’t you agree, Durak? It would seem there are no bounds to the depravity these terrorists are willing to go to disrupt peace and order. With such wanton disregard for life, who is safe?”

  “It would seem the public and the Grand Council are in agreement with you,” Dorion said. “Planetary polling is indicating a spike in public outrage . . . and fear, of course. And the Council is finally beginning to tip towards favoring greater military and policing powers to prevent further escalation.”

  “Wiping out half a city will do that,” Sarusuz commented, dryly.

  “A necessary sacrifice in the quest to restore order to the Dominion,” Dorion said. “I am afraid more must come if we are to be successful.”

  “More?” Kasdren asked, looking surprised. “Is one such massacre not enough? As you said, the Council is on side with us. Can we not simply put the increased security measures motion forward now? There should be no question of them approving it after Trycon.”

  “Not yet,” Dorion replied, shaking his head. “I do not believe they have been pushed far enough. They will have to believe there is no other solution, no other choice, before allowing the measures to be passed. I fear that more blood will need to be spilled for the people to be truly convinced. Truly deterred. They must not only fear those that would dispute the Sect. They must hate them. I fear that one act alone will not accomplish this. There must be more. Much more.”

  The room became silent as the moods of everyone taking part in the conversation appeared to darken in light of the morbid topic. Jarred himself was shaken by what he was hearing. Though no one had come right out and said it, they had basically admitted to having planned the attack on Trycon. Sierra and Kern had already concluded that the Sect had perpetrated the massacre, disguising their genocide as a terrorist attack, but seeing this inner circle discuss it so casually left him stunned. And they were planning more. More attacks against the innocent populous in order to gain public sentiment for an ever growing military presence.

  “But that is a discussion for another time,” Dorion went on after a long moment. For now we must focus on the next phase of our operations on Solta.”

  “Trycon’s stabilization efforts,” Kasdren stated, knowingly. “The sooner we move in to clean up the mess and restore peace and order the better. It will rally public sentiment and support for strong retaliation.”

  “Sect Security Forces remain on standby for immediate deployment to Solta to aid the local forces in Trycon,” Sarusuz added. “That is, once the quarantine is lifted.”

  “The quarantine will not be lifted,” Dorion replied, shortly. “And no forces will be sent to aid them.”

  Perplexed looks passed between Sarusuz and Kasdren before their combined attention returned to the Chief of State.

  “Dorion?” Kasdren asked, carefully. “I’m afraid we’re a bit confused. If the quarantine is not lifted, how are we to see Trycon restored.”

  Dorion returned their gazes, his own conveying something close to the degree of regret Jarred would expect of someone that had condemned tens of thousands to death. “Trycon is not to be restored. Much like a gangrenous limb must be removed to save the body, Trycon must also be severed. To save the Dominion. Trycon must die, though it will be reborn . . . as something far greater.” He looked to Sarusuz and Kasdren, who both appeared stunned, before continuing.

  “I understand your confusion. I must apologize for not bringing the two of you into this portion of our plans earlier, but certain elements may have been difficult for you to fully understand.”

  “Difficult to understand?” Kasdren echoed.

  “It was in no way a question as to either of your intelligences, nor your devotion. You are both highly skilled in your fields and there is no question as to your allegiances. That is why you were invited into this inner circle. But these . . . particular plans required something neither of you have.”

  “What is that?” Sarusuz asked.

  “Faith,” Dorion answered, simply.

  “Faith?” Kasdren echoed again. She glanced over to where Durak was seated in the circle, the large Gnolith having yet to speak. “And was the High Commander kept in the dark, as we were?”

  “The High Commander and I share a belief s
ystem neither of you subscribe to,” Dorion answered. “Because of this, until all of the pieces were in place, he was the only one of you I could trust to understand. I apologize for that, but it was necessary, and soon you will know why you were kept in the dark.”

  “Will we, Cal?” Kasdren asked, her outrage obvious. “This circle was built on a premise of trust and a belief in one common goal of seeing the Dominion returned to order. How can either of us trust you when you do not mirror it in us? I have to wonder what else you have been keeping from us.”

  “Your anger is warranted, Lyshal,” Dorion replied. “If our roles were reversed, I would feel much the same.” His expression hardened. “But they are not. I brought you into this circle . . . because I value your expertise and council. But, if at any point, you do not feel comfortable with the situation or capable of continuing in your role, you can as easily be removed . . . and retired.”

  “Apologies, Cal,” Kasdren returned after silent moment, the defiance removed from her tone. “I meant no disrespect.”

  “Of course not,” Dorion said, with a friendly smile. “And there was none taken. As I said, the reasons for my secrecy will soon be made clear . . . once the Prophets have arrived.”

  Not yet having spoken, Durak sat up in his seat. “The Prophets?” he echoed. “They mean to grace us with their presence?”

  “Yes,” Dorion answered, looking at everyone in the circle in turn. “They do. It is a great honor to be granted audience with the Prophets, the heralds of the Gods themselves, one granted to only a select few. It is for this reason we have gathered in the Usarion Temple.”