The Mystic Saga Omnibus (Books 1 - 5)

by Scott McElhaney

  “I’m willing to play along with all this, but I have no intention on truly submitting to any of this garbage until I learn where we fit in and what’s really going on,” Declan whispered to them, “Basically, I’m going to be looking for a way out at all times. If you’re with me, great, but if you’re not, I understand that too. I only ask that you don’t get in my way if you’re planning on playing ball with these people. Can we all respect that?”

  “I’m totally with you, man. And you can bet they’re watchin’ us right now – maybe even hearin’ some whisperin’ – so we might wanna say somethin’ a bit louder now and then,” Charlie said, “THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYIN’ MAN! LET’S JUST DO OUR 20 YEARS AND ENJOY WHAT’S LEFT.”

  Declan and Delta both laughed at the obvious ploy that had to be equally as obvious to anyone who happened to be watching them at the moment. It was still a nice gesture though, Declan thought. He stepped out of the huddle and started putting on the uniform.

  “I’m with you too,” Delta said, “I’m Richard by the way – not ‘D’ or ‘Delta’ or whatever else they may call me. I’m a 53-year old pediatrician who used to have a beautiful wife and two grown sons – one even in med school.”

  “Doctor? Wow, Dr. Delta,” Charlie laughed, retrieving his uniform from the “C” bed, “Well, I’m Preston and I’m just a truck driver from Seattle. I’m 36 and happily divorced, if you know what I mean.”

  Declan nodded, then buttoned up the front of his uniform, “I’m Declan Stringfellow, a 39-year old martial arts instructor from-”

  “From Richland?” Charlie interrupted, “The Aqueduct robber?”

  Declan snickered and nodded, wishing he didn’t have to always be remembered as a criminal. Unfortunately though, that was what he’d become.

  “I loved the way that you ruined that undercover cop and still kept the nine hundred K from being returned. I mean-”

  “Undercover cop?” Declan sputtered, “What happened?”

  Charlie seemed mystified at Declan’s question for a moment.

  “Biggs,” Charlie said, “Your trial was front page for months, man.”

  Declan gasped, trying to make sense of Charlie’s words.

  “I never lived past the night of the robbery. The MRI that brought me here happened that night,” Declan said as he approached Charlie, “What happened?”

  “Biggs, man. That dude was an undercover cop and he was playin’ you all along, but you got him BIGTIME,” Charlie said, chuckling, “This trial that was supposed to put you in jail… well, let’s just say that your lawyer turned it completely around! You proved that Biggs was workin’ for the drug lords just the same as nearly half the freakin’ police force. Declan-freakin-Stringfellow, man! You took down a whole city!”

  Delta simply nodded a confirmation when Declan glanced over at him.

  “You definitely made the headlines,” Delta said, “My MRI was that same year, so I never caught the end of the trial.”

  “Wow, you guys can’t imagine what this means to me,” Declan said, shaking his head, “That’s really all I wanted to do. I just wanted to get rid of the drug problem.”

  Charlie shook his head, apparently trying to cut Declan off even as he spoke.

  “It was a victory, man, but the corruption was deep,” Charlie muttered, “You were definitely a hero though and people were proud of you.”

  “I died?” Declan asked.

  “Yeah, a month after the trial. Supposedly you were out for a late night stroll and got hit by a car. We all knew better though,” he replied sadly, “Common sense, man. The corruption was deep and they weren’t gonna let you walk.”

  4

  The “Yellow Room” as Declan decided to call it turned out to be a docking bay or a hangar of some nature. Though he didn’t see any spacecraft or shuttles, it still had all the attributes of a typical hangar. The ceiling rose 7 or 8 meters above his head with tracks of some sort running the full length of the ceiling. Nearly twenty meters away, he located a crane-like object attached to the overhead track with a robotic claw dangling almost to the floor. Two of the opposing walls were made up of giant double-doors, sealing them off from whatever lay beyond.

  “Did they forget how to make quality lighting in the future?” someone questioned from beyond an unfamiliar piece of machinery, “I mean, let’s get some lights on in this place.”

  Declan sauntered toward the voice, locating about a dozen of his fellow Indentures loitering in the corner. One of the women, Lima if she had accepted the initial on her breast pocket, nodded a greeting toward him.

  “Yeah, it’s not depressing enough to learn that we lost everything we ever had. Now we also get to live out our days in a dirty, dimly lit vessel a billion miles from Earth,” Tango added.

  “Can we talk about something else, please?” Lima asked, pointing with her eyes toward Juliet.

  Juliet was wrapped in her own arms, huddled near a giant coil of metallic cable. Even in the low lighting, they could see that her eyes were still bloodshot from a substantial amount of crying. Declan drifted to the group, then approached Lima whose face still bore a mask of concern. When she caught his questioning gaze, he gestured subtly toward Juliet.

  “A young mother of three,” Lima whispered, “Two toddlers and an infant. Oh, and a husband of six years. Can you imagine that?”

  Declan simply shook his head.

  “It would be like losing your whole family in a car accident or something,” Lima added, “I don’t know what to say to make it better. Seriously, what do you say to something like that?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, “There’s nothing anyone can say that would make it better. I’ve been there.”

  “Did you lose anyone?”

  “Not through this… this MRI life-stealing whatever-the-heck-it-is,” he gestured toward the giant hangar before them, “But I lost my three year old son a while back. And at times like that, anything people offer as a consolation or an apology serves no purpose whatsoever. Sometimes it even makes the person mad.”

  “So, how did you cope?” she asked.

  “Revenge.”

  She glanced at him for a moment, then looked over at the broken woman. By this time, the rest of the Indentures had joined them.

  “Maybe she’ll eventually get that chance,” she muttered.

  . . .

  “I guess that this is the moment where I welcome you to the beginning of your actual training,” Alpha said, pacing in the center of the hangar, “So, welcome to the first step in your training program. Today we will be learning…”

  He reached down into the metal crate in front of him and withdrew what appeared to be a toy metal sword. A few chuckles rose from the class.

  “Yes, you are learning the sword,” Alpha grinned, holding the item aloft, “You will be learning the basics of the rapier and the long sword – two very different types of swords. And no, this boring shank of metal is not the sword you will be presented with at the end of your training.”

  Alpha tossed the sword, resulting in a hollow metallic clang as it hit the deck and slid toward the group of Indentures. He then turned his attention to another crate, lifted the lid, and drew out a beautiful, intricately carved long sword. The silver and gold of both the shaft and the hilt glimmered, bringing a hush over the class.

  “This is the sword that you will have if you complete this course to the satisfaction of our leaders. You’ll by no means be sword-fighting gurus at the end of such a short course, but you should all be able to satisfactorily defend yourselves while possibly delivering some worthy blows to your adversary,

  “What you are looking at here is a titanium/tungsten alloy blade built over top of a thin ribbon of nickel-coated… well, for all intents and purposes, ‘neptunium’ – though in truth, it’s actually a bit more than that. I don’t understand all the details, but what I do understand is this,” he said, pressing an unseen button on the handle which gradually brought a bluish glow to the blade, “It takes about 5
seconds to charge before…”

  Alpha swung the sword in a wide arc, then shifted around the crates, all the while his blade pirouetting as though he were one of the musketeers. The blade sliced beautiful blue streaks through the air as he pretended to parry away from the advances of unseen enemies. Finally, just as a shout erupted from the doorway, he slashed the blade downward through the thick metal claws of the crane, imbedding the blade several inches into the floor.

  Suddenly, Alpha leapt backward from the sword, twisting and screaming. He dropped to the floor, clutching at his chest as he continued to thrash about.

  “Alpha is a danger to this colony,” a voice echoed from the doorway, “A liability to us all.”

  The Indentured group turned their attention to the tall, elderly figure that was now walking rapidly toward the center of the room. The man wore a dark blue uniform similar to Ensign Rowe’s, but with more markings and emblems on the sleeves and chest.

  “I need a security detail to the shuttle bay,” he talked to no one in particular as he hefted the sword from its position imbedded in the floor.

  The gray-haired officer turned to the Indentured, pausing for a moment as though suddenly becoming aware of their presence. Alpha continued to writhe about, groaning and pleading for mercy.

  “Nothing in all of the history of mankind is as important as this,” he waved the sword out across the hangar, pointing toward nothing in particular, “None of this is a joke and the sooner you Indentures get it through your heads, the better.”

  Two other uniformed figures rushed into the room, somehow knocked Alpha unconscious, and dragged him quickly from the room. All the while, the Indentures loitered quietly as the elderly officer packed the sword back into the crate. He then stepped forward and knelt to pick up the “toy” sword.

  “We are now presented with an unexpected vacancy in your group, which begs the question, who will teach you the sword?” he said, attempting to twirl the heavy weapon in the air, “Obviously not me. I wasn’t blessed with your strength and your youth. Not to worry though.”

  Suddenly, a ghost of a chainmail-clad man appeared next to the sword-wielding officer, nodding in agreement. The see-thru man, his long blond hair bound into a ponytail, then turned to the Indentured and smiled warmly.

  “While Captain Ross may not be able to teach you the sword, I would be glad to. For the remainder of this course, you may call me Sir Lancelot,” the man said, drawing a sword out from the scabbard on his belt, “Come on people, you were supposed to laugh. Isn’t that a good name?”

  The elderly man they now knew as Captain Ross expelled a loud sigh of resignation, shaking his head. Declan felt a sudden desire to physically overtake the man and demand some answers, but he knew their electro-shock safeguards would prevent him from gaining an edge. Even so, his mind remained on full alert for any possible opportunities to get out of this nightmare.

  “Unfortunately, the ship’s AI has a personality beyond my control,” the captain said, “I’d hoped to keep you from dealing with any computer intelligence through the course of your training, but here we are. Nevertheless, you are in good hands.”

  Captain Ross turned toward the door and made a quick exit. Declan frowned as he watched the man leave, wondering if he’d lost his only chance.

  “What’s going to happen to Alpha?” Tango shouted toward the captain just before the door closed.

  “None of your concern,” his reply echoed from the hall.

  “Truly,” Sir Lancelot added, “Alpha would have inflicted far more damage than necessary. I believe you are better off without him. Now, let’s get started.”

  “Wait, how are we going to swordfight with a ghost or a hologram or whatever you are?” Bravo asked, “And why are we learning sword fighting? Are we going to a planet full of aliens or something?”

  “Many questions and all are pertinent. But I’m only permitted to answer certain ones,” Lancelot smiled, then started pacing the room, “Yes, I am presented to you as a holographic figure and cannot actually sword fight with you. I can however train you to be as good as me if you agree to pay attention and do as I say. And why are you learning this skill? Call it a precaution. No, there are no aliens or deadly creatures that we know of on Hydrus or any other planet in the Beta Hydri System.”

  “You’re very specific in your wording, just like the computers of our era,” Declan said, “Why the precaution? Are there aliens around the Hydri System? If I recall correctly, anytime there is a star labeled ‘Beta’, then there’s also most likely an ‘Alpha’ star in the system.”

  “No, there are no known intelligent alien species whatsoever in the entire universe,” Lancelot replied, “How is that for an answer, Foxtrot? Yes, we’ve discovered alien plant-life, bacterium, and more recently, small animals and fish. We are not preparing you for any planned battles. Now can we please continue with the course?”

  Declan still felt uncomfortable with the whole situation, but decided it would be best just to go along with the rest of the class.

  5

  They were led to a cafeteria of some sort after almost two hours of training. Ensign Rowe was waiting for them as they filed in, showing them to the glass-fronted machines loaded with nearly fifty prepackaged food choices. None of the food choices were recognizable to the Indentures, but a few of them had similarities to sandwiches of the 21st century.

  The ensign selected two food items and a beverage, then took a seat at one of three long tables. Declan was one of the last to make his food selection behind two of the female Indentures. He tapped Lima’s arm as they stood before the glass-encased foods.

  “Where’s Juliet?” he asked.

  “Well, you saw how motivated she was during the sword class,” she replied, “She probably went back to the bedroom.”

  He glanced around the cafeteria, wondering if these slave masters ever took into consideration the emotional health of their subjects. Declan had already noticed Quebec and Golf having a similarly rough time losing whatever families they had. Even now, Golf was sitting at one of the tables staring blankly at the food in front of him.

  “You think she will be okay?” Declan asked.

  She shook her head sadly, selecting a burrito-shaped item. Declan selected three of the same item she picked, then chose two waters. He took his food selections and headed out of the cafeteria, locking eyes with Ensign Rowe just before the door closed. He could almost see the beginnings of a reprimand perched on her lips.

  He moved briskly through the corridors hoping that Rowe wasn’t going to tear out of the cafeteria and hunt him down. It didn’t take him long to locate the bedroom marked JLS. He cautiously opened the door, peering into the silent room. He then crossed the threshold and allowed the door to close behind him. The room was an exact replica of his own, with the exception of a figure clearly lying in one of the beds.

  As he moved closer, he could see that Juliet was lying covered up in a fetal position, her eyes open and her gaze falling on nothing in particular. If she saw him standing there, she gave no evidence of it. He knelt down on the floor next to her, resting his arm on the bed near her chin.

  “Hi, I never got a chance to introduce myself. I guess none of us got that chance really. I’m Declan.”

  She didn’t respond. A long strand of hair fell across her face, but she didn’t even respond to that. He watched her, looking for any sign whatsoever that she was even alive behind those eyes, but she granted him nothing.

  “I know they told you your name was Juliet, but that’s not really you. Who are they to tell us who we are? I’m not ‘Foxtrot’. Heck, I don’t even know what a Foxtrot is,” he said, reaching over with a finger and drawing the strand of hair out of her field of view and tucking it behind her ear, “What’s your name - your real name?”

  He looked down at both of her fists that were gripping the blanket to her chest. Her knuckles were turning white because of how tightly she grasped it.

  “You don’t need to talk. I
know what it feels like when people try to reach out to you and you just want them all to go away. I lost my three-year old son. He was shot in my own driveway and I held him while he bled to death. No one should ever have to lose a child. No one,” he started, then resigned that thought with a sigh, “I wish we had access to the internet though. I’d like to have a picture of him at least and maybe it’s out there somewhere. I had always carried a photo of him in my wallet.”

  He opened up the package that contained the burrito-like sandwich and took a cautious bite. As he chewed, he smiled and nodded to her, noticing in that moment that some tears were welling up in her eyes.

  “Your family never lost you, you know,” he said, setting the burrito down on the bed, “I think our minds somehow want to think that since we have no memories after the MRI, then that means we physically left at that point and showed up here in this hell. But that’s not what happened at all. You went home after that MRI. You went to PTA meetings for your kids. You watched them walk down the aisle to get their diplomas. You were there for-”

  “Stop, please,” she croaked, the tears streaming onto the pillow, “I get it. Really, I do.”

  He watched her, wishing there was something he could do. That vacant stare of hers finally shifted, catching his eyes. After a moment, she looked down at the bitten burrito on the bed between them.

  “I actually brought you one,” he said, reaching behind him and grabbing the remaining food, “See, hell comes with bedside service! First class all the way.”

  She cracked a partial smile, strictly for his benefit, but he accepted it. He set all the food and drinks on the bed between them.

  “My guess on the burrito-thingy is that it’s turkey, chicken, or cockatiel with either provolone or mozzarella cheese, and a tangy sauce similar to ranch dressing, but a little spicier,” he said, making a point of opening the wrapper of hers, “And we’ve got water to drink.”