We burst out into a hallway guarded by four Vorem legionaries. This hallway led thirty yards toward two massive black doors with polished steel handles, somehow still bright after centuries. Behind those doors, I knew we would find General Ridian. We would find Kalac too.
All the guards fired at once, forcing us back into the stairwell. I took a deep breath.
“We’ll cover you,” said Hollins.
I nodded. Then I ran for it. A hail of red energy blasts shredded the hallway as I zigged, zagged, flipped, and ducked—across the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling—toward the doors.
Ornim, Chayl, and the humans charged out of the stairwell behind me, weapons blazing. A legionary just ahead of me fell, his armored knee joint smoking. With a roar, Pizza tackled another unlucky Vorem right through the wall and into an adjacent room.
I heard Becky scream. An energy blast had grazed her arm. Ornim went down, a smoking wound in its z’iuk.
I smashed through the black doors and past the two befuddled guards, who nearly shot each other trying to hit me. The battle continued in the hall as the guards held my companions back. The sounds of the fight were muffled now as the heavy doors swung closed behind me.
I found myself in a huge penthouse chamber at the top of the tower. I could tell it had been beautiful once, but now it was a ruin. Sleek statues lay toppled. The floor was strewn with paintings, now black with rot. One wall and a large portion of the ceiling had broken away, leaving the room open to the sky. Outside, I saw Aeaki wheeling and swooping. Two legionaries faced the gap, firing blaster rifles at them.
Ahead of me stood General Ridian, armored but still without his helmet. He faced a small slumped figure bound in chains. In his hand he held a scrap of parchment.
“9-1-5-6-7-2-3-4,” yelled Ridian. “What does it mean?”
“Nothing,” rasped Kalac.
“Yes it does. It does mean something!” Ridian bellowed at his prisoner. There was a note of panic in his voice. The Aeaki uprising must have caught him off guard. “Don’t you understand? This is your last chance! Command the Xotonians to give it to me!”
The small figure turned to him. “I told you. Even if I wanted to . . . the Xotonians would never turn it over,” said Kalac, its voice barely a whisper. “You won’t get the Q-sik, Ridian.”
“If they don’t give it to me, then you die!”
“So be it,” said Kalac.
Ridian punched my originator hard in the face. Kalac grunted.
“And it won’t just be you!” cried Ridian. “I have your offspring—”
“Not anymore, you don’t!” I cried, firing my blaster pistol at Ridian. I cursed as the shot flew wide of its mark.
“Chorkle?” said Kalac, blood dripping from its gul’orp.
Ridian turned, his red eyes wide. “Capture it!” he shrieked to his guards, ducking and fumbling to get his own blaster pistol from its holster.
Both the legionaries turned and fired at me. I scrambled behind a mound of debris while laser fire pummeled the floor nearby.
“Don’t kill it! I said capture it! It’s no use to me dead, you idiots!” screamed Ridian from across the room. “You! Worm! Redeem yourself!”
It took me an instant to realize that his last command wasn’t for either of the legionaries. I whipped around as a swift kick knocked the blaster pistol from my thol’graz. My weapon skidded across the broken floor.
Before me stood Taius Ridian in a battle stance. He was unarmored, still wearing the same filthy, tattered uniform as when I’d seen him last. His cheeks were sunken, his hair greasy. He looked even worse than when he’d first emerged from the cargo hold of our starfighter.
“Taius,” I said.
“Chorkle,” he said in a cold monotone.
Then he kicked me hard in the z’iuk, and I slid backward across the floor. I leaped to my fel’grazes and discharged my stink gland. Lithe as ever, Taius ducked out of the way as the spray flew harmlessly past.
“What are you doing, you weakling?” bellowed Ridian to his son. “Why are you not engaging the Xotonian! It’s half your size, you coward. Is this how you acted when you lost on Gelo?”
Taius swiped at me with his claws, and I sprang backward. He was bigger, stronger, and a fully trained warrior. He wasn’t holding a weapon though. If I could get to my blaster pistol, I might have a chance.
“You shouldn’t have saved my life,” said Taius. With a snarl, he lunged at me again, and I somehow managed to somersault over him.
“You owe that thing your life?” hissed General Ridian with disbelief. “How is that possible? You’re a disgrace.”
Taius spun around and hit me with a roundhouse kick that sent me sprawling in the opposite direction.
I lay on the floor for a moment, dazed. I blinked and saw Taius at the apex of a high jump. I just managed to roll out of the way as he stomped the ground where my head had been. I heard him growl with rage.
“That little Xotonian is making a fool out of you,” said Ridian. Odd, considering I felt like I was barely staying alive.
Taius swung his fist and cracked me hard across the gul’orp. He swung again, and I ducked. Overbalanced, he stumbled forward.
“You’re not a warrior,” said Ridian.
Somehow I managed to scramble through Taius’s legs and get behind him.
“You’re not my son,” said Ridian.
My blaster pistol was close now—just a few meters away on the floor. I dove for it and felt my fribs brush its handle when a hard armored hand clamped onto my thol’graz and yanked me back. One of the legionaries held me firm in his grasp. I wriggled, but it was no use. His grip was like iron.
“Got the Xotonian!” the legionary cried, hoisting me up. And an energy blast to the shoulder promptly knocked him off his feet.
“’Sup, dudes,” said Little Gus.
I turned to see him standing in the doorway with Chayl, Hollins, Becky, and Nicki. They all pointed their weapons right at General Ridian. They had defeated all the guards in the hallway.
“No!” shrieked Ridian.
The other legionary crouched to fire, but before he could raise his blaster rifle, Pizza came hurtling over the heads of the humans and landed hard on his chest.
I caught movement from the corner of my third and fourth eyes. Taius charged at me. I sprang into the air and somehow caught a dangling light fixture. He growled as I hung just out of his reach.
“No, no, no, no, no,” said Ridian, looking around the room frantically. With both legionaries neutralized, he was outnumbered and outgunned. Outside, the Aeaki were routing his troops. His plans on Kyral were falling to pieces.
“Everyone back!” cried Ridian, and he yanked Kalac to its fel’grazes and pointed his blaster pistol right at my originator’s head. “Stay back, or I will end Kalac’s life!” He inched toward the open ledge.
The humans looked at one another uncertainly. At last, they lowered their weapons.
Taius stood below me, panting hard. He reached into his pack and pulled something out. It was a small device: a glowing tetrahedron that spun slowly inside several concentric rings of tarnished, iridescent metal, mounted on a complex base.
“No,” I heard Nicki gasp.
With a choked noise of wordless hatred, Taius aimed the Q-sik at me.
CHapter Twenty-Three
I could feel the Q-sik drawing energy to itself. It was powering up to fire. When it did, a white light would burn through me. A beam powerful enough to punch a hole through a planet would blast my body into its constituent particles.
“You—you have the Q-sik?” said Ridian in disbelief.
“Yes,” said Taius. “I’ve had it since I came here. I took it from this one while it slept. Not so stupid, am I?”
He must have stolen it the night after we crossed the marsh. He must have known I had
it all along. I realized that the dream I had in the village of Oru was real.
“Shoot him!” croaked Kalac. My originator’s face held a look of despair.
Neither Chayl nor the humans moved though.
“You had it, but . . . why didn’t you give it over to me, my son?” asked Ridian. His voice was kind now, paternal.
“Quiet,” said Taius. General Ridian blinked.
Taius’s face had contorted into a grotesque mask of pure rage. He stared at me, past the Q-sik, as tears streamed down his cheeks.
“No matter,” said Ridian. “If you want to be the first to fire it, go ahead. After all, you’ve earned it. You’re a clever boy. A good boy. Blast that Xotonian out of existence. Be careful, though. I’ve studied the Q-sik, and the lowest power setting will suffice. Otherwise you might kill us all.” Ridian chuckled. “That thing can shatter suns, you know.”
“Shoot him,” whispered Kalac. The others remained frozen where they stood.
“Do it, Taius,” said Ridian, ignoring my originator. “You’ve more than redeemed your failures on Gelo. Now you can erase your debt to that creature too. You’ll be a general. More than a general. You’ll command your own fleets. Together we’ll return to Voryx Prime and take what is rightfully ours. Fire the Q-sik and then hand it over to me. With it, I will be imperator: Stentorus Sovyrius Ridian I. And you will take the throne after me.”
Taius nodded slowly. I could tell he was picturing the future his father laid out for him: wealth, honor, glory. The Q-sik continued to power up. I realized that he’d set it to its maximum setting.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why . . . what?” I asked.
“Why did you pull me out of that burning ship?”
“I thought it was the right thing to do,” I said.
“Are you a fool?” he cried. “Why did you help me? It doesn’t make any sense. We’re at war! I’m your enemy! I’m your enemy. . . .” His pointed teeth were clenched.
“You didn’t have to be,” I said. “You still don’t.”
Taius and I stared at each other. The Q-sik hummed and crackled. Slowly, he closed his eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” asked General Ridian. “Stop jabbering and shoot. Or give the Q-sik to me. Enough dawdling, boy. You need to—”
“Shut up!” screamed Taius.
General Ridian’s eyes grew wide. Taius now pointed the Q-sik at his father.
“What?” laughed Ridian, backing closer to the ledge. “What do you think you’re doing, Taius? Is this a joke? Give that thing to me right now.”
“Stop telling me what to do,” said Taius in a dangerous voice. The Q-sik continued to power up.
“You are an officer of the Vorem legion, subordinate to me,” said Ridian. “I have every right under Dominion law to tell you what to do.”
“No,” said Taius. “I’m not a military officer. I have no rank. You took that from me.”
“As punishment for your failure,” said Ridian.
“My failure? My failure!” he cried. “What about your failure?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Ridian.
“Look around. The Aeaki are routing your troops.”
“I’m not—my objective is not to defeat the Aeaki. It is to obtain the Q-sik.”
“That was your objective on Gelo too,” cried Taius. “Ten triremes and a battle cruiser, beaten by three antique Xotonian starfighters! Pathetic! Anyone who couldn’t win that battle would flunk out their first year at war college.”
“They fired the device!” snapped Ridian.
“You knew they had it! How could your strategy not account for that possibility?” cried Taius.
“I thought—our simulations determined that there was a ninety-seven percent chance that they lacked the will to use it,” stammered Ridian.
“But you were wrong! They did use it!”
“Yes,” said Ridian, his voice now thick with contempt. “And that’s what makes them braver than you.”
“What?” cried Taius, his eyes suddenly crazed. The Q-sik was drawing power still—it radiated dizzying waves of energy. If Taius fired it at this setting, the blast would surely destroy us all.
“You heard me, boy,” sneered General Ridian, moving toward the ledge, his blaster pistol still pointed at Kalac’s head. “You won’t shoot that thing at me.”
“What makes you so sure?” asked Taius.
“Because what I said was true: You aren’t a true warrior. You lack the courage,” said Ridian.
“Do I?” he snarled.
“Yes,” he said. “If you stood in my way, I would destroy you without a second thought.”
“Don’t do it,” I said quietly to Taius.
“Shut up!” he yelled at me.
“You’re weak,” said Ridian. “You can’t.”
“When does it end?” asked Taius.
“What?” asked Ridian.
“When does it end?” repeated Taius.
“When does what end?” asked Ridian.
“The Vorem Domion has conquered thousands of worlds. But we always want more. . . . More killing. More fighting. More taking. When does it end?”
Ridian laughed. “It never ends,” he said. “Now I’m telling you, boy, this is your last chance. Give me the Q-sik and I won’t put you to death for this sad treason.”
“No,” cried Taius. “I hate you!”
“You may hate me,” said Ridian, “but I’m everything to you. Without me, there is nothing.”
Taius and his father stared at each other for a long moment. Taius bellowed with anguish and gripped the Q-sik with both hands. I closed my eyes.
“Yes. There. Is,” said Taius. And he lowered the weapon.
“Just as I thought,” said Ridian. “Pathetic.” And he stepped off the ledge, taking Kalac with him.
“No!” I cried, dropping to the floor and running toward the edge.
Slowly, a black shape rose. It was the Vorem trireme, hovering about five meters from the building. Ridian stood on the wing, clinging to its open hatchway, the wind whipping his black hair. He still clutched Kalac by its chains.
“When you wish to make an exchange,” said Ridian, “my son knows how to reach me.”
I raced toward them. Kalac turned, and our eyes met. I could somehow hear my originator over the roar of the ship’s thrusters. “Don’t give up the Q-sik,” it said. “Whatever happens, Chorkle, know that I love you.”
The trireme nosed skyward.
“Kalac!” I screamed. And with all my strength, I leaped.
“Chorkle, don’t!” yelled someone from behind me. Was it Taius?
My thol’grazes flailed as I sailed through the void. I desperately reached for the trireme.
But I missed.
The Vorem ship fell away toward the sky. It took me an instant to realize that it was I who was falling. I’d jumped from the top of League Tower, and now I had two hundred fifty meters to drop before I smashed to bits on the ground below.
Time seemed to slow as I plummeted toward my death. It was oddly quiet. I found myself blinking back tears, half from racing air and half from being so close to Kalac and yet losing my originator again. I don’t think I felt scared, particularly. Perhaps the fear of dying hadn’t registered yet. Some oddly logical corner of my brain hoped that I would land before it did.
The ground was rushing up at me very quickly. I could even see the shapes of tiny armored Vorem legionaries fleeing before the Aeaki. Above me, the trireme had dwindled to a black speck. And beside it, I saw a little white speck about the same size.
I blinked again. The white speck grew. Something was hurtling through the sky of Kyral toward me, approaching faster than I was falling.
It was Eyf.
“Chorkle!” she shrieked. S
he swooped and caught my thol’graz with her feet. She flapped her wings hard, but she wasn’t strong enough to lift me. Now the two of us were both falling together. But instead of falling straight down, her momentum was carrying us forward too.
Another ruined skyscraper—maybe a third the height of League Tower—grew ahead of us. We were approaching it fast. Too fast. I heard Eyf shriek.
The last thing I remembered was smashing through a wall.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Darkness.
Silence.
So this is what it feels like to be dead, I thought, to cross over to the Nebula Beyond.
I heard a faint noise ringing in the void. A growl. It was my own z’iuk. I felt . . . hungry.
But that wasn’t right. How could I be hungry after I’d died? Perhaps . . . perhaps I wasn’t dead.
To test the hypothesis, I opened a single eye. The world was painfully bright. After a moment, this formless light began to resolve itself into a room. It was made of old broken concrete. I was lying on a woven grass pallet with a short wooden table beside me. On the table was a small crystal statue: a woman with a shield and spear. A few vines crept in through the open window. Outside, the sun was shining.
A big blue shape in the corner shifted, and I felt a surge of panic. I was sharing the room with a thyss-cat, the most fearsome predator on all of Gelo. The beast tilted its head, and its yellow eyes locked with mine.
“Hamburger,” it said.
“Aaaaaaaaaaagh!” I screamed, startling the thyss-cat.
Just then, an old brown-feathered Aeaki came bustling in. Somehow I knew his name was Rezuro, and he was a member of the Oru clan. He didn’t seem to be afraid of the beast.
“Shoo! Go on! Get out of here,” he said to Pizza. Chastened, the thyss-cat whined and slunk off.
“I heard it . . . It was . . . It said . . . ” I mumbled. My head felt foggy, and I suddenly realized that everything hurt.
“It’s all right,” said Rezuro, easing me back onto the pallet. “Relax. You need to rest.”
For the Love of Gelo! Page 21
