Star Rising: Heartless

by Cesar Gonzalez

  “What happened?” asked Xalen slowly, more invested in the story than he initially thought he’d be.

  “She became an Alioth like she said she would. She fought in the Battle of Yellow Rock and the Battle of Jagotown. In both she was decorated with the highest honor an Alioth can receive for valor, the Indigo Cross. In the Siege of Ashburg, she was decorated with the Mustard Cross after she single handedly, with great peril to herself, snuck over one-hundred civilians out of the town under the cover of two nights.”

  Xalen was confused. Lastrius, Roerkel, and Smyuiles had spoken of Thoko as she had been a traitor, but, if Nandi’s stories were to be believed, she was nothing but heroic.

  “She sounds like a great person,” he said truthfully.

  “She was.”

  It didn’t escape Xalen that Nandi had used the past tense was.

  Nandi’s face knotted. Then she said, “She came to visit me once, you know. Father wouldn’t allow her to stay at our home, so mother and I had to meet her at a dining room. She spoke of all her adventures, the people she met. She told story after story of the injustices that she’d seen. Children forced to fight in battles, then cut down like dogs. Families burned at the stake by Yashvir’s followers.” She paused. “Hearing her speak with such ferocity, such intensity stirred something within me. I suppose it was that day that I decided I wanted to be an Alioth like her.” Another hesitation. “When she left that night I had no idea it would be the last time I would ever see her.”

  “What happened?” asked Xalen, his inquiry barely a whisper.

  “Alioth was looking … they needed a spy to infiltrate Yashvir’s camp. Someone young who wasn’t very well know.” Her eyes sharpened. “None of the newer Alioths wanted to take on such a dangerous mission. Except for…”

  “Your sister.”

  Nandi nodded glumly. “Yes. She inflitrated Yashvir’s camp and became a lower-ranking commander. From her position, she was able to feed the Bastion information. Formations, intel, battle plans, coordinates, you name it. You know about Yashvir’s demise, right? At Bickland Station.”

  “Who doesn’t? The entire galaxy knows about that.”

  “The entire galaxy knows that Reave defeated Yashvir. They know that Dantes led the charge in the open battlefield against Yashvir’s army. They know of Sensei Barteau’s lone stand against the Three Mythical Generals of Elsire. Minstrels at the pubs sing songs of how Junia defeated the trio that was, up until then, thought to be invinsible.” She turned to Xalen with the look of someone who had just snapped out of a nightmare. “Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against Sensei Barteau. I admire her more than anyone in the cosmos. She was Thoko’s best friend at Zizor. She trained alongside her and was a confidant when she was homesick. In many ways, Sensei Barteau is my last link to my sister.” She was silent for a moment, and Xalen knew that she was having a hard time finding the right words. He could see it in the wrinkle between her eyes. He could hear it in her raspy breaths. When she finally did speak, her tone filled with pain. “I wish people also knew of Thoko’s contribution.”

  “Thoko’s contribution?”

  “It’s true that Reave, Dantes, and Sensei Barteau were the heroes at Bickland Station, but they only got there because of Thoko. She was the one who warned the Bastion that Yashvir was going to launch a pulse radar that would end life in the galaxy. It was her who hacked the computers and delayed the launch for hours, giving the Alioths and the army time to arrive. Had it not been for her, life would have ended that day.” A single, thin vein throbbed on her temple. “After Yashir’s defeat that day, a number of Yashvir’s most trusted followers retreated to a nearby moon. Thoko, still under her guise as a Yashvir commander, went with them. From there she forwarded her coordinates to the Bastion. But the Bastion didn’t come.”

  “What do you mean didn’t come?”

  “There was a man among the last survivors. He was Yashvir’s most trusted and ardent follower; to this day he remains at large, awaiting the return of his master. Ash of the Rgors Clan.” Her feet shifted ever so slightly. Xalen saw Nandi blink rapidly as she ran her hands through her hair. “Ash suspected that someone had betrayed them. That someone had leaked information to the Bastion. Knowing this, Thoko contacted the Bastion many times. She begged them to come for her. But…but…but…”

  Xalen scooted to Nandi’s side. He didn’t think about it, which was good. Had he pondered too much on his actions, he never would have gone through with them. But before he knew it, he had outstretched his arm. His hand landed on her elbow, where it remained as Nandi mumbled her next words.

  “The Bastion Council did not send anyone to aid my sister,” continued Nandi. “They didn’t even tell anyone that Thoko was trapped with the enemy. It didn’t take long for Ash to figure out that Thoko was an Alioth. He killed her.” Nandi’s lips quivered once more, though this time it was not with sadness, but rather anger and frustration. “They left her to die. The Bastion Council used her when they needed her, but once they deemed her of no importance, they left her to die!” A shallow breath followed. “She died alone. Alone like a rabid animal!”

  Xalen swallowed hard, unable to find the right words to say.

  Nandi pressed on. “Sensei Barteau was the only one who went looking for her. But when she got to Thoko, she only found her mangled corpse. Ash and the rest of Yashvir’s followers were long gone.” A teardrop escaped her eye. She wiped it away before it could make its way down her cheek. “She died with the enemy. Many people who don’t know any better, call her a traitor. My own father calls her that.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “I’m so sorry your sister went through that,” Xalen finally muttered, his voice as thin. “Your sister deserved better.”

  “Yeah, well.” She shrugged sadly. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”

  Xalen was certain she was exhausted. It had been a long day. But this went beyond that. Nandi didn’t want to speak about those somber memories. That much was obvious. So as Nandi laid her head down, Xalen didn’t utter a word. He remained awake until his friend’s low breaths and velvet whimpers became a soft snore. A moment later, he dozed off as well.

  Chapter 16

  In deep space, a lone Nimon Class ship sped through the stars, leaving behind the Gray Ring and entering the Noble Ring. Within its thick hulls, two women moved against each other on the long training pads the ship was home to. One moved with the speed of youth fueling her body. Her moves were fluid, though lack the finality of her opponent’s. The second woman’s moves were yolked with finality. Every step, every pounce was intended to finish the fight as soon as possible. There was no room for useless flips and throws. There was only a desire to end. It was a form of fighting that the experienced woman had perfected over her countless cycles; a form that made her a feared warrior, invincible in the timeless art of combat.

  Beatrix knew that Sophic had a nasty attitude. But this night it seemed downright fierce.

  “Stay focused!” cried the older woman. She brought her black metaton toward Beatrix’s torso. Months ago, the attack would have connected, but not this time. Beatrix sidestepped, but a swipe of Sophic’s leg knocked her down on her behind before she could launch a proper counter attack.

  “You’re still thinking too much between actions!” thundered Sophic.

  Beatrix sat up. She looked up at Sophic. “How can I not? You’re taking me on some sort of mission, but have told me nothing about it. Where are we headed?”

  Sophic ran her hand over her face. “You’re really not going to stop asking, are you?”

  Beatrix’s eager look was the only answer the woman needed.

  “Fine. I had planned to tell you when we disembarked on Boiylie. But I suppose there’s no harm in telling you.”

  “Yes.”

  “We are to capture a young man. He’s an Alioth-in-training who is currently on a science expedition. He goes by the name of Xalen Blangi.”

  “An Al
ioth?” Beatrix looked at her master quizzically. “What business do we have capturing Alioths? We have to kill them, every single one of them!”

  “Usually, I would be mimicking your sentiments,” agreed Sophic. “This time, however, things are different. We need this boy. Alive.” She made sure to put extra emphasis on the last word.

  “Why?”

  “That I can’t say. Classified information.”

  “Classified information?”

  The older woman looked at her with a face of passive indifference. “Yes. Classified information. Are you having a hard time understanding such a simple concept?”

  “No. It’s just that I don’t see the point to the secrecy. I’m part of the Black Sanction. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

  “No. You don’t deserve anything. You’ve been given the opportunity to join a great organization. Consider yourself fortunate for that and don’t go around asking for things that are not yours to have.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Beatrix grimly. On the outside she remained quiet and focused, but on the inside her suspicions grew. Why was she not being told why this boy was so important that Sophic herself had to come fetch him?

  “The capture itself should be easy enough. As I said, he’s an Alioth-in-training so he’s bound to not be terribly skilled.”

  “Is he alone?” asked Beatrix, forgetting her previous suspicions.

  “Our intel suggests that he is accompanied by five other Alioths. They should pose no challenge. Four of them are also in training.”

  “So there is a full-fledged Alioth with them then?”

  “Yes. Alioth Wize. However, her expertise lies in the sciences. She will prove easy to overcome.”

  Beatrix grinned, a sudden urge of impatience sweeping over her. “I can’t wait to get my hands on them. Can’t wait to make them suffer for what those dogs of the Bastion have done to Palek!”

  Sophic nodded in silent approval. “You won’t have to wait long. We arrive at Boilye’s dawn.”

  “Perfect,” said Beatrix. She caressed her rapier. This Alioth, Xalen, was about to feel the pain and despair that her people had been subjected to. Tenfold.

  ΩΩΩ

  The bridge of the Egmont was oval shaped with six stations that required the same number of operators to be run at full capacity. However, it could also be programmed to be run by computer. The computer wasn’t nearly as proficient as real-life people were, but it was good enough. Not to mention that losing the Delta had been the biggest blessing Amlaidh had experienced in the past few cycles. With the Egmont, he had traversed the Noble Ring with absolutely no impediment. It felt liberating.

  “Incoming hail,” warned a male voice coming from Amlaidh’s communicator.

  Amlaidh instantly sat up straight. He’d been sitting, legs up, on the captain’s chair.

  “Open hail,” said Amlaidh, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

  A green light shot out from the communicator strapped around his arm. It took the form of a cloaked figure.

  “Lord Yashvir,” said Amlaidh, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “I wasn’t expecting your hail.”

  “What is your progress?” demanded his father as way of greeting.

  “Well…” The half Zander scratched his head, feeling the small horns there. It was a horrid habit he had tried to shake many times before; a habit that only seemed to intensify when he was nervous. “I have managed to locate the wherabouts of the boy. He’s in Boilye. I’m currently—”

  “You’ve had over three months to find the boy, and you just now discovered his wherabouts?”

  “Y…yes, sir. It was difficult. There were many obstacles on the way. The Delta ship I used, for example, made it difficult to move at—”

  “I have no use for excuses!”

  “Of course not, sir. I understand. I shall triple my efforts.”

  The hooded figure was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, its tone was one of complete resolution. “I’m counting on you, Amlaidh, but if you continue with these failures, you will leave me little choice but to dispatch another Dearg to capture the boy.”

  “You sent a Dearg after him? But why? The task of capturing the boy is mine alone.”

  “I sent a Dearg after him because I grew tired of your inabilty to bring me the boy.” His eyes bored into Amlaidh’s. Those eyes, even as a projection, made him look down at the ground in shame. “As I had suspected, the boy was too well protected. Even the elite Dearg was unable to bring him to me.”

  This was news to Amlaidh. Elite Deargs were the most powerful of Deargs. Was the boy so capable that he’d put a stop to the creature? No. That seemed impossible. It was more likely that the boy had help.

  “How am I to succeed where an elite Dearg has failed?” he asked.

  “That is for you to figure out. Or is the task to daunting for you?”

  Amlaidh straightened. “No. By morning the boy you seek will be under my charge.”

  “I shall have a Dearg come to your assistance.”

  “That’s not necess—”

  The hologram of Yashvir disappeared, leaving Amlaidh in mid sentence. He cursed under his breath. He kicked the navigation system. Why did his father have to send a Dearg? Did he think so little of Amlaidh that he found it impossible to believe he could complete his mission without help?

  Amlaidh, opting to not dwell on the answers to his questions, diverted his attention to the landing of the ship. It didn’t take long. Thanks to the cover of the night, he was able to fly the Egmont into Boilye and land it on the desert plains without garnering any unwanted attention.

  He set the ship down about an hour’s walk from a nearby village. At least he hoped it was a village. He never been to Boilye before and had only the vessel’s outdated maps to guide him.

  He walked for over an hour, with only rocks, prickled shrub, and the occasional lizard for company. He was beginning to think that the ship had led him the wrong way, when, off in the distance, a hub of light appeared. It was nothing more than a blur of yellow and white at first. But as he walked closer, a collection of wooden paneled structures took form. There were five rows of them, running about one hundred yards each. Amlaidh judged that each row contained about twelve buildings, for a total of about sixty structures. This was good. It meant that information travelled quickly among these people, which promised to facilitate his information gathering.

  He walked into the village, which didn’t have a single sentry posted on its outskirts.

  “Foolish, trusting simpletons,” whispered Amlaidh to himself. He couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t guard their own kin. “It matters not. Easier for me.”

  The sand crunched softly under his boot. He passed dozens of quiet homes. The lights within were off. No doubt they were deep in sleep. But there was one place that he was sure was not asleep. A minute later the structure he was searching for came into view. Like the rest of the buildings in the village, the pub was made up of old wooden panels. It was filled termite holes. The deep brown color that had once been the norm was now a bleached-out white, the result of many years of sun exposure.

  Hoping to make a show of force, Amlaidh brought up his foot, kicking the door open. He was welcomed by the wide-eyed stare of a lone man cleaning the bar with a small rag.

  “Where is everyone?” asked Amlaidh. The twenty tables spread across the pub were all empty. Stacks of chairs had been erected atop them, and the floor below had been moped to the point where it glowed like a shooting star.

  “We are closed,” said the frail-looking man that stood behind the counter. “Be off with you, boy.”

  Amlaidh stood up straight. “Watch your tongue, old man. I asked a question. Where is everyone?”

  Despite Amlaidh’s harsh tone, the pub owner did not appear phased in the slightest.

  “I assume they’re at home sleeping,” he said as he continued to wipe away. “This is a mining planet, after all, and miners work day shifts. So I would
imagine they’re resting. Anyone with half their wits could have figured that out.” He looked up at the unwelcomed night visitor and frowned. “But judging by the way you came barging in here like a raving lunatic, you’re not very bright.”

  “What!” Amlaidh’s anger rose. In a flash of fury he covered the distance of the pub and grabbed the owner by the throat. “Mind your toungue when you speak to me, simpleton.”

  The man gave a scratchy laugh.

  Seeing that the man needed more incentive, Amlaidh brought his metaton to his face.

  “I’m looking for a group of Alioths. They came here not long ago. Where are they?”

  But the metaton seemed to have little effect. The frail, old man’s laughter only grew louder. A minute later it turned into a fit of sickening coughs.

  “I’ve been married to a Feehan woman for the past fifty star cycles,” declared the pub owner. He slapped the metaton away from his face. “She threatens my life every other week, and a few times she has actually beat me half to death.” He laughed again, even harder than the first time. “And you think a punk nobody is going to put fear in me?”

  Amlaidh stood in silence. He’d gone his entire life obtaining what he wanted by force, coming across someone who didn’t shudder at his presence left him frozen and unsure on what to do next.

  “Unhand me, punk.”

  Amlaidh did as he was told. He thought long and hard on what to do next. He needed to get information out of this man, yet pain and threats were obviously not going to work.

  The pub owner studied him for a moment, then sighed. “You could just have walked in and asked nicely for the Alioths’ wherabouts. No need for your chest-puffing demonstration.”

  Amlaidh bit his tongue and spoke. “Why would you give me the information I seek so willingly?”