by S M Briscoe
As though that thought was all Jarred need conceive of to see it done, he felt his closed eyes part open, the eyes of the two security guards standing before him widening in surprise as a result. A third was standing at the open hatchway. His hands had already been securely tethered to the ceiling, but it seemed no matter as, with a tug of his hands and burst of strength he shouldn’t have been capable of, he was able to tear the cables free of their mount. As the cables dropped, so did his bound hands, over the head of one of the two guards. He pulled his wrist bindings back hard against the guard’s neck, taking hold of his helmet and twisting sharply, hearing the pop of his vertebrate as his head turned around much further than was natural. Still holding the limp body, Jarred struck out with a snap kick that sent the second guard, who had not had time to react, tumbling on to his back.
At the door, the third remaining guard did react, turning to step out of the cell, and most likely seal it shut behind him. Jarred dropped the dead guard in his hands and lashed out with the cables still attached to his wrist bindings. The long cables sailed across the chamber, snaring the guard as they wound around his neck, and yanking backward, Jarred pulled him off of his feet and back into the cell.
Glancing down at his wrist binders, he thought to retrieve a key from one of the guards to unlock them, but a second thought occurred to him. As quickly as the thought had formed in his mind he felt a familiar maelstrom of energy growing within his core, the conjuration eventually moving down his arms to his hands. He released the energy buildup with his focus on the binders and with a small flash they shattered, their pieces falling to the floor. A bit surprised and impressed with himself, he marched towards the open hatchway, first taking hold of the deceased guard’s leg at his feet, dragging the body along behind him, paying little mind to the two remaining guards that were beginning to stagger to their feet. He turned as he exited into the corridor in time to see the guards’ reactions as he hit the cell’s control panel, the heavy doors sealing shut a fraction of a second later. A smirk came to his face shortly after at hearing the muffled sounds of multiple gun turrets firing off, amused at the thought of the security measure meant to keep him from escaping unleashing it’s fury on his captors instead.
The amusement was brief, however. There was something else that required his full attention and it was fairly safe, under the circumstances, to say that escape wasn’t it. As ridiculous a notion as it seemed, there was a being, meant to resemble a deity, at the other end of the corridor that required killing. He wasn’t sure why he felt the overpowering compulsion to confront it, but couldn’t deny that he did. Truthfully, it was his only thought. He wanted to think of something, anything else, but he was consumed by the urge. Much as he had been deep within the mountain on Solta, only this time he wasn’t being urged to find something . . . but destroy it.
The corridor ahead of him was empty. Having eliminated the three guards that had originally escorted him from his cell, he would need to deal with at least the remaining three that he was aware of. That would, of course, be the easy part. Once he made it back to the audience chamber, he would face the far greater challenge of the Rai Chi and the High Commander before nothing else stood between himself and the Usarion impersonator. His first obstacle was the blast door at the end of this section of corridor, which he proceeded towards with the dead guard’s body in tow. Lifting the guard up by the body armor, he placed its limp mass between himself and the security door’s scanning reticle, the device humming and producing a positive chime before the heavy doors slid open.
Through the open hatchway, the guard Jarred knew would be standing watch turned casually to look back, most likely expecting to find his fellow comrades, his obvious surprise delaying the reaction to raise his weapon. Still holding the deceased guard’s body up, now as a shield, Jarred took hold of the rifle hanging from it’s shoulder and hip fired a quick round, the blast sending the stunned guard flying backward into the crossing corridor before he’d had a chance to raise and fire his own weapon.
Dropping his makeshift shield, Jarred darted down the curved corridor, staying close to the inner wall, knowing the two remaining guards would be coming after hearing the weapon discharge. They would also be alerting his targets in the audience chamber, which meant he would need to move quickly to catch them at all off guard. As expected, one of the two door guards was approaching, Jarred hearing his footsteps and low cast voice as he spoke, most likely into his comm unit, requesting the status of any of his dead comrades.
Jarred slowed his pace and readied himself, watching the opposite wall as far around the curved corridor as he could see, and when he glimpsed movement; the approaching guard’s shadow touching the wall; he sprang into action. Throwing himself across the corridor, the approaching guard opening up with a spray of rifle fire, Jarred hit the opposite wall, narrowly avoiding the energy blasts, and bounced off, lunging forward again to collide with the firer. Taking hold of the guard’s outstretched weapon, he yanked him forward, and pushed back hard, driving the rifle up into his face shield, smashing through the visor and receiving a loud crunch as it connected hard with his face. The guard’s body went limp, but Jarred held him up, bringing him around to catch the flurry of bolts fired from the last remaining guard. Still holding the limp guard’s rifle, he returned a well placed shot into the firer’s head, dropping him instantly.
Jarred let the limp guard’s body fall to the floor, keeping his rifle in hand and continued to make his way around the curved corridor to the large chamber doors at its end, stopping short when he found them already parting, a scarred Rai Chi warrior staring back at him from the opening. Their previous confrontation had been a matched one in the skies above Trycon, neither displaying a distinct advantage over the other. Jarred didn’t have time for another drawn out battle. Not when his true goal waited on the other side of the doorway the warrior was blocking. He shouldered his rifle, targeting the Rai Chi’s head, recalling the durability of his body armor, and pulled the trigger.
Or would have . . . but for the searing white light and concussive wave that sent him flying backward down the corridor and once again into the darkness of unconsciousness.
Chapter 43
Jarred opened his eyes to find himself staring up into the ceiling of a smoke filled corridor. The same one he had just been passing through, now a veritable war zone. His ears were still ringing from the explosion that had come from within the audience chamber.
The explosion. What had happened? Looking around himself, he saw chunks of smoking stone debris strewn about the corridor and damage to the surrounding structure that confirmed an explosive shockwave had definitely blown through the immediate area. His survey came to a halt when he recognized something else familiar. A figure lying still in the rubble only a short distance from himself, the being’s face marked with a distinctive scar. The Rai Chi warrior that had been standing between him and the chamber doorway. The force of the explosion, which had originated from somewhere inside the audience chamber, must have carried the Rai Chi well into the corridor as well.
Focusing on the immediate threat the warrior represented, Jarred kicked himself free of the debris covering him and worked to regain his footing, which was slow going, as his head was still spinning. Blinking away the stars that filled his vision, he scanned the immediate area for the weapon he knew he had been holding before blacking out and was quickly rewarded by finding it within reach. Taking up the rifle, he crossed the floor to where the warrior still lay motionless and almost completely covered by stone debris, dead or simply unconscious, Jarred couldn’t be sure. Moving into a position over the Rai Chi, he noticed the slight movement of the warrior’s chest rising, though shallowly, indicating he was not quite dead. Not yet. Bringing his rifle to bare, Jarred lined the aiming reticle up for a head shot . . . and hesitated.
He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the warrior. Not like this. The Rai Chi had tried to kill him in their first confrontation, but he s
upposed he couldn’t fault him for that. He had been trying to do the same. The warrior had shown him a respect of sorts, the kind one experienced combatant allowed another. And he had saved Ethan’s life. Possibly for that reason alone, he couldn’t end his life here. Not like this. He deserved better.
Dropping the rifle, Jarred turned back down the corridor. It would be of no use against the dark being that awaited him. Still feeling a bit disoriented, he strained to see through the smoke ahead and into the rubble filled chamber. As he approached it’s crumbled entry way, Jarred could see that a large portion of the exterior wall inside the chamber had been blown out, exposing it to the high altitude environment outside, the heavy air current serving to kick up a constant cloud of dust and small debris. Additionally, the floor surrounding the exploded area had also broken apart and fallen down through to the lower level, almost up to where the entry hatch used to be.
Moving on, he crossed the littered floor, searching for signs of what had caused the explosion. It had obviously originated from outside the building, the damage consistent with either a large explosive device or some kind of projectile ordinance. The force of the explosion led Jarred to conclude it was most likely the former and he looked out through the gaping hole in the chamber’s outer structure for the source.
But there was nothing. Only distant lines of traffic criss-crossing the skyline in the distance. What had it been? A freak accident? Unlikely. Could it have been an assassination attempt? It was a definite possibility with the lineup of officials in the audience chamber.
And then his eyes caught sight of something. A disturbance in the air just in front of the chamber’s opening. He squinted to focus in on the strange . . . mirage? Perhaps it was just that. Or maybe his vision was still off from the explosion.
Jarred’s questions were then answered as, seemingly from nothing, something began to appear. A ship. And not just any ship. One with a cloaking device. It was the Taliss Runner; or Fancy Girl, as it’s new transponder indicated; the last thing he had expected to see, hovering before him with it’s boarding ramp lowered. He was actually stunned. Kern and Sierra had come after him. The faces he saw inside were neither though. Looking back at him were the two people he had worked so hard to see removed from danger. The people he had come to care for. And they were shouting at him.
“Jarred!” they called out in unison.
They had come here to rescue him. He was moved by their intent, yet conflicted as well. He had abandoned the thought of escape as of recently, the natural instinct to preserve his own self being replaced by something else. Something that had been and was still drawing his attention even now. Something dark and full of malice. He could feel its energy, cold and powerful, looming over him like a deathly shadow. It was still here. Watching him. Waiting for him.
Jarred turned from Ethan and Elora and found the dark being, the Usarion impersonator; a name he used with more doubt than he cared admit; staring back at him from across the chamber, it’s yellow eyes burning with an intensity that mirrored the growing inferno he felt in his own chest. An inferno that threatened to consume him if not unleashed. Upon the very subject that was the cause of its manifestation.
Behind the dark being, shielded by the stone chairs they had only recently been seated in and were now cowering behind like frightened children, were the Head of State and his significant others, most likely fearing themselves the targets of the explosion. Durak and the elder Rai Chi were also there, neither cowering behind anything, and though the latter’s fury was unmistakable, both remained still in the presence of their false deity.
It was no matter. Jarred wasn’t concerned with any of them. His sole interest remained with the dark being that stood in the forefront, as it’s interest remained equally trained on him. He wanted to hurl himself at it. To destroy it. He didn’t know where the feeling came from, and strangely, it didn’t seem to matter to him. Regardless of its true identity and origin, everything in Jarred told him it was . . . evil. He wasn’t even sure he believed in so simplistic and ideological a concept, but if such a thing existed, this dark being surely embodied it.
If that was true, what did it mean for himself? Jarred wasn’t naive or pompous enough to suddenly think himself the embodiment of good, but something had urged him to return here with the purpose of confronting this being. Of that he was certain. And much like before, he felt powerless to resist. The urge was too strong. He needed to destroy this impersonator, and though the cause of that need was a mystery, he could not deny its hold over him.
Beneath its alien faceplate, the dark being almost appeared to smile, as if sensing Jarred’s thoughts. Without speaking, it seemed to call out to him, inviting him to give in to his desire to kill it . . . or try.
Jarred took a step toward the being, more than willing to capitulate, but was halted, his movement cut short by a blinding explosion of crimson fire.
* * *
“What is that?”
It was Ethan that asked the question, but Elora was thinking the same. Jarred had seen them. He had been looking right at her, but something had kept him from coming to them. Something . . . horrible.
“I don’t know,” she answered him, not fully sure if that was true. The dark figure wasn’t any race of being she was familiar with, though she did recognize it. It resembled images she had seen before, terrifying things that used to frighten her as a child, and frankly, still did. Stone sculptures, in varying depictions of its likeness, decorated much of the chamber it and Jarred were occupying, a throne room of some kind by the looks of it. This whole temple was a shrine to their kind. To the Usarion Gods. But the being in the chamber, as terrifying as it appeared . . . it couldn’t be.
Elora absently activated her comm and spoke into it. “Are you seeing this?”
“We see it,” Sierra came back, from the flight deck. “I’m on my way back.”
“Is that what I think it is?” Elora asked, hoping she was just imagining things.
“If you’re thinking what I am,” Kern responded, the chill in his voice obvious even over the comm, “then I really hope not.”
“Well, whatever it is,” Elora went on, “it’s got Jarred’s full attention.”
“Not for long,” Sierra commented, as she entered the hold, with a cold edge to her voice that Elora had come to recognize as her no-nonsense combat tone. She took up a position next to the open boarding ramp door and activated a control panel along its side bulkhead, a panel sliding free to reveal a mounted cannon. Swiveling the cannon around by its attachment arm, she pointed it out through the opening. “Whatever it is, it’s about to say goodbye.”
Before Elora could respond she was shielding her eyes against the brilliant flashes of radiance lancing out from the gatling gun’s spinning barrel. Spattering and burning into the chamber floor, the volley of rapid cannon fire traced a quick path of destruction towards the Usarion figure, who stood motionless in its approaching wake. As the energy barrage struck its target, some of the blasts appeared to actually bend around it, exploding into the surrounding stone objects and the wall on the chamber’s far side. Others simply vanished into the being itself, leaving no burns or marks of any kind to show they had even made contact.
And then she felt the cold weight of its eyes, yellow and monstrous, fall on her, and was seized by a terror she had never known, sheer will keeping her from crumbling to the deck beneath the horrible gaze. The thing was truly a nightmare and Jarred continued to face it, Elora unable to fathom why. The unthinkable answer came to her as he took a step toward the being, Elora’s mouth opening in a desperate scream, as she tried to call out to him once more. He did not turn.
* * *
As the rapid volley of energy blasts shot past him, Jarred stood unmoving, his eyes locked on the dark being that was their target, the superheated rounds tearing through the stone floor, pillars and sculptures along with anything else they came in contact with.
All but the dark being itself. Much of the laser fire
, which should have burned through the stationary being, appeared to bend and veer away from it instead, as if being drawn away by some unseen force. Even more impossibly, the flurry of bolts that did stay their course seemed to vanish on contact with the dark figure, disappearing inside it.
A cold chill ran up Jarred’s spine and he knew immediately that wasn’t what had happened at all. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but he felt something else had happened . . . or was happening.
The being’s eyes brightened with a familiar intensity, a sulfuric gaze Jarred had met only a short time earlier, and he knew immediately what had made his blood run so cold. The energy rounds had not simply disappeared. No. They had actually been absorbed by the dark figure and Jarred knew for what purpose. The building tempest in the being’s eyes told him what it intended to do, yet what unsettled him most was the focus of that fiery glare, as unlike before, it was not directed at him, but over his shoulder. At the people he had sacrificed himself to protect, and who had in turn come here, putting themselves back in danger to rescue him. He heard a voice call out to him, even over the mixed roar of wind and ion engines, but did not dare remove his gaze from the danger before him.
The dark being’s hand rose, the clawed appendage igniting with a crimson energy that quickly swelled into a tempest of swirling fire. Jarred was already moving as the being gestured forward to unleash the maelstrom it had conjured back on the vessel that had first fired it, placing himself between Elora and Ethan and the destructive fireball. Unsure of what was compelling him to do so, he extended his hands and braced himself, taking the full brunt of the energy blast. At the moment the red fireball struck him, inexplicably, an energy discharge of his own emerged from his hands, a bluish shimmering light that flared into existence, meeting the dark being’s own maelstrom.
