KINRU

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KINRU Page 8

by Stuart J. Whitmore


  His hands tightened into fists and then relaxed again. Moans and whimpers slipped past his lips. At times his head thrashed back and forth. At other times his chin drooped down toward his chest. Tears began to stream down his cheeks. He bit his lip hard enough to cause a trickle of blood to appear.

  With a violent jerk, Birkran sat up and opened his eyes. A smile slowly spread across his face, and he nodded minimally.

  "Yes. Yes, it finally makes sense. I am Birkran Kinru. I am Birkran, and so much more." He stood and moved casually toward the sleeping area in the suite. "They are going to regret this. They are all going to regret what they put me through."

  He stepped into the lavatory and leisurely washed his face. The grin did not entirely fade, but his expression reflected how deep in thought he was. After cleaning up, he went to the closet and selected some nondescript exercise clothing. Birkran quietly changed clothes and prepared to leave. The last thing he collected was a pocket-sized directional illuminator.

  "So much information," he said to himself before opening his door, "all coalescing nicely. Nicely for me, that is."

  Although he wore clothing from Corlane Deryala's wardrobe, he used his alternative route out of the building to avoid being seen. Rann Deryala was missing, at least according to his most recent information, and he didn't want to make an unplanned reappearance. The first thing he needed was updated news, and there was one place he trusted to accomplish that task.

  Using routes with minimal observation, Birkran made his way through the city to the building that housed the dusty room full of forgotten equipment. From everything he had analyzed so far, he was relatively sure that those who had asserted control over him were unaware of that room. He made sure he was not being observed, and once again let himself into the room.

  "Really, Anhukarr, couldn't you have cleaned up a little better?" Birkran said with a smirk as he powered up the old system. "Well, I wasn't expecting guests," he answered himself. "I'm not accustomed to such lowly settings," he then said. "Oh, be silent, you're just a junior Rann." Birkran laughed quietly. "Now that I'm healthy, I'm sounding crazier than before. I'd better watch myself, others won't understand or appreciate my unique perspective."

  Birkran spent several hours collecting information. He started with information about himself in all of the identities he had unsuspectingly held. Then he worked on information about those who had seen his potential and bent it toward their own secret purposes. He couldn't stop smiling as he explored his real potential, and what it would mean for his own purposes. With the paranoia of Birkran, he knew he must not get too cocky, but with the self-assurance of Corlane and Anhukarr, he knew the sky might be the limit for his future.

  Once he had filled in all of the information cracks that he felt were important, Birkran began preparing his path through the city. His inside knowledge of law enforcement procedures and his system knowledge from past exploits paved a smooth path forward. Like never before, he was able to guide the behavior of numerous systems to keep his movements and actions hidden from people and machine alike. When he was almost done, he checked the synchronization of the timepiece that was blended into the fabric of one sleeve of his shirt, a feature originally designed for use in vigorous exercise.

  "The time has come," he said grimly as he powered down the system. He stood and shook his head gravely. "If I fail to act now they will soon realize what has happened, and then we will be in a power struggle. I can't hesitate. Dangerous animals must be put down.” He sighed, sounding both angry and sad. “And, I have to admit, I want revenge."

  He looked down at his sleeve and waited for the correct time. Birkran then left the room and promptly exited the building. His first stop was not far away, and he moved there at the pace he had already calculated. As designed, there were no obstacles. He entered another building and went to the lift that he knew would be waiting for him.

  A few moments later, Birkran was on the correct floor. Without hesitation he strode to a nearby door and entered a medoc waiting room. The room was empty and he knew the surveillance systems were experiencing a temporary glitch. Having been there before, he moved smoothly to an interior door and let himself through, since the lock was already disengaged. It took him only a moment more to reach his first target.

  "Medoc Tsuran," Birkran said as he strode into the medoc's office where the medoc was sitting behind his desk.

  Medoc Tsuran jumped to his feet. "You... I... May I help you?" the medoc asked in a poor attempt at covering his surprise.

  Birkran pulled the directional illuminator from his pocket and shone the bright light into the other man’s face as he closed the distance between them. "Can you travel through time to change your decision to use me as a tool? No? Then I suppose it is too late for you to help me."

  When Birkran left, his stomach was in knots. He had never taken a man's life before and had no idea what to expect. He vomited more than once after the medoc was dead, and he had to avail himself of the medical facility’s capabilities for disposing of biowaste, not only for the remains of the medoc but also his own vomit. He knew he had more people to visit and a strict schedule to keep, but killing the medoc disrupted his thoughts more than he planned. As he left the building, he wondered if he would have been steeled for the task better if he had killed Zyrlan Kottes when he had the chance.

  "They brought this on themselves," he said softly as he rode the lift down again. "They've held me back, but the dam of my potential has broken. A few more obstacles out of the way, and then I can follow my own, true destiny. Just a few more."

  * * *

  Rann Corlane Deryala sat in his cubicle, focused on the tasks on his morning to-do list. He had a lot of work to catch up on after his unexpected absence, and he knew he had to pace himself through it. If he completed it at the rate he knew was possible for him, it would raise eyebrows that he didn't want raised. And, what did it matter? The election cycle wouldn't hurry up for him. He could take his time. A knock behind him caught his attention.

  "Rann Pillane," he said when he turned and saw Sertea standing by the entry to his cubicle. He smiled. "Are you here to help me get caught up?"

  Sertea made a scoffing sound. "You're the one who decided to take a sudden and unannounced medical sabbatical. You deserve every bit of that work. I sure hope it was all worth it."

  "The sabbatical? Oh, I'm sure of it. I have had not even a trace of problems since I've returned. I do believe the cure will hold."

  "And this was a treatment from Medoc Sumartok?"

  Corlane shook his head. "No, didn't I tell you? I thought I did. Anyway, I went to see him with the referral from your father, but he was not available. I had to go to someone else. Fate put me in the right place at the right time, I suppose."

  "Fate," Sertea said with a soft snort. "You're not the type for mysticism."

  He shrugged. "True. I didn't really mean it that way. Anyway, it's good to be back, rested, and properly focused on what I really need to do here."

  Sertea grinned. "It's good to have you back. I need someone around to help me escape meetings."

  Corlane laughed. “At your service!”

  “Plus it’s more fun to speculate about Triple-A with you than the others. They all just stick to party-line explanations.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Triple-A. He wasn’t active while I was gone? He missed an opportunity to make me look foolish. Maybe he’s going into an early retirement.” After a glance at the time on his work board, he looked at Sertea. "Lunch?"

  "Yes, it's about that time."

  "No, I mean do you want to go out for lunch," Corlane said, shaking his head in mock dismay.

  "Go out?" Sertea said, raising one eyebrow. "Are you asking me on a date, Rann Deryala?"

  Corlane grinned. "It's just lunch. You do eat, right?"

  Sertea rolled her eyes. "Okay, it's just lunch. And yes, I do eat. I'll even go out to lunch with you so that you can tell me more about this sabbatical of yours."

>   Corlane secured his work board and stood up. "That would probably bore you, but I'm sure we can find other things to talk about. I have some ideas that might interest you."

  Acknowledgments

  The author would like to thank his patrons on Patreon for their vote of confidence in his creative works, his fellow indie writers for their encouragement, and his friends and family for their support.

  Also by Stuart J. Whitmore

  Wolf Block

  Journey to Yandol, and other stories

  No Fanfare

  Two Boys, Two Planets

  Lesson One: Revolution!

  Extra Credit: Loyalty!

  All titles are available in e-book formats, and some are available in print. Check your favorite retailers or visit StuartWhitmoreAuthor.com for useful links.

  About the Author

  Born and raised in the shadow of more than one volcano, and growing up surrounded by militarily-valuable targets during the Cold War, Stuart J. Whitmore was one misfortune away from sudden death. What better way to escape thoughts of impending doom (or, more likely, boredom from watching too many TV reruns) than writing a novel? His first was written in 9th and 10th grade; before he graduated from high school, he had completed the first draft of his second full-length novel.

  With a VIC-20 for a computer at the time, real word processing was not on the horizon for him. Those first two novels (and several later books) were handwritten in spiral notebooks, typically with cheap ballpoint pens. While enjoyable and good practice developing a story, this mode of writing was not a fast route to sharing work with readers beyond family and friends. Writing was eventually pushed aside by career and other "real life" demands.

  That career, luckily, resulted in a solid background creating and publishing digital content. Thanks to growth in the e-reader device market, options now exist for writers to rapidly share their stories with a global audience, options never dreamed about in the glow of the 22-character-wide VIC-20 display. Combining his writing and technical background with digital publishing capabilities, Stuart now makes his writings available to readers far beyond his personal circle of contacts.

 

 

 


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