“How are things going down there?”
“Could be better,” Dah admitted. “I believe we have neutralized the threat to the shield generator. How are things elsewhere?”
“There was also a more covert attack on the primary com tower near the SCMBHF.”
The SCMBHF was the Seryys Combat Military Barracks and Housing Facility, where most of the planet’s service men and women—and their families—trained and lived. It was a large-area facility ten miles north of Seryys City. It was its own self-sustaining city with a power plant, agriculture, shops and entertainment—much like Gor’Dyyn Gorn Base. Most of the planet’s military operations were based out of the SCMBHF.
“Was it stopped?”
“Yes, it was. But not without bloodshed, as usual with the Vyysarri,” Byyner sounded very disappointed. “They were trying to upload something; but when they were caught, they destroyed the evidence, and those who didn’t die fighting took their own lives.”
“Glad to hear they were stopped.”
“Well, they did invade a military base. Perhaps they felt that they would have better luck in the confusion with the shield generator going down.”
“I suppose. But it’s not gonna go down anytime soon.”
“Is Khai with you?”
“No, sir. He’s neutralizing the threat inside the shield generator. The Vyysarri planted charges within the structure and Khai is in the process of disarming them. He refused to let anyone else go with him in the event that bombs went off. I’m assuming from the fact that the bombs haven’t gone off yet, that he is having some success.” There was a long, long pause. At first Dah thought that the com channels were down again. “Sir? Are you there?”
“Yeah,” Byyner sighed and was very reluctant to talk. At last, he spoke, his voice taut with strain as if he was grimacing as he said, “When he comes out, you need to place him under arrest immediately and bring him here to the station.”
“What? You can’t be serious,” Dah said.
“What Cap’?” Puar asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Captain Byyner wants me to place Khai under arrest.”
“Why?” Brix asked.
Byyner sighed, hearing Brix’s question. “Because of a damned technicality!”
“You didn’t answer his question,” Dah said coldly.
“Apparently, Khai failed to mention that he suffers from shell shock. Falsifying applications to the police force—or any force, for that matter—is an offence punishable by jail time, and...” Byyner’s voice broke for yet another long sigh, “…in times of war, punishable by death.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Dah snapped. “He’s never shown a single symptom!”
“I have his mental health file in my hands right now. I’m looking at them. They were released from the SCPDTF and sent to me directly from the Minister Trall. It’s his orders that I’m following.”
The SCPDTC, or Seryys Combat Patient Diagnostic and Treatment Center, was allowed to release patient files on government orders when pertaining to the mental stability of soldiers in the field. So the information was obtained legally by the laws in place.
“He’s the only reason we have a shield generator to protect us right now, and you’re gonna tell me that he’s going to be executed?” Dah practically spat with anger.
“Sorry, kid. It’s not my call. The order came directly from the Minister of Planetary Affairs. Don’t disobey this direct order, or you and you team will also be put to death.”
“And if he resists?”
“Your orders are to use deadly force. You understand?” Byyner wasn’t even trying to hide the disgust in his voice.
“Roger that, sir.” Dah cut the channel. “FUCK!”
“What’re we gonna do, Cap’?”
“Follow our orders,” Dah said bluntly.
“I’m not arresting him,” Brix growled.
“Then you’re gonna die, just like him!” Dah snapped.
Just about then, a large explosion blew out all the windows on the top floor in a fire ball.
They all stood, their collective chins hanging below their knees, their eyes wide open.
“Guess we’re not gonna have to arrest him after all,” Puar said both sadly and relieved all at once.
They stood just a little longer, staring at the smoke billowing from the shattered windows.
They were all so focused on the tenth floor, that no one noticed the dark figure emerging from the front doors of the building. When the dark figure slumped against the wreckage of the drop ship, they all snapped to fire positions. The dazed figure was unarmed but huge in stature and cast a huge shadow from the pale moonlight.
“Lay down on the ground-now!” Dah shouted the order. Dammit! What the hell is wrong this guy? What do I do? The thoughts in Dah’s head swirled like a tidal pool in the Great Rush. What if it was Khai? No! Dah thought. Khai would’ve identified himself immediately. The figure didn’t comply, only stumbled forward some more. “Get down on the ground, or I’ll put you there!”
The stumbling man took several more wobbly steps forward and as Dah was about to fire, another single shot rang out. A single round plunged into the chest of the man shrouded in umbra. The shot man issued a grunt and dropped to his knees, but kept coming forward, now reaching out for them.
Koon had the crosshairs trained on the figure’s face, just waiting for the word. It only took a second to realize, though, that the stumbling figure was not Vyysarri.
“Company! Open f-”
“Wait!” Koon shouted, dropping his gun and running up to the man.
They all followed suit, knowing that they had made a huge mistake.
Khai rolled to his back, wheezing and coughing.
“Shit,” Dah breathed. “Khai, say something.” He knew it was stupid to worry about it, especially once they got him into custody. He was a dead man one way or the other. But he would be damned if this world-renowned warrior died by his hand. “Come on, you stubborn bastard. Say something.”
“I…” Khai coughed. “I missed one…” Khai said, then wheezed out a weak chuckle.
The others laughed with him.
“Yeah,” Puar said. “We noticed. That’s coming out of your pay.”
“Good thing you were wearing your flak jacket,” Naad remarked.
“Doesn’t hurt any less,” Khai said dryly.
“Oh shut it, you pansy,” Dah said. “We’ve all been shot before.”
“Why’d you shoot me?” Khai growled.
“I didn’t,” Dah said, throwing up his hands in defense.
“Then who shot him?” Koon asked.
They all looked at each other and only one wouldn’t make eye contact with the others.
“Brix?” Naad asked.
“Sorry!” Brix almost whined.
“Damn, Brix!” Puar shouted. “It’s amazing that the Seryysan Society has come this far with people like you in the gene pool!”
They all laughed except for Dah, who was surprisingly glum given the jovial mood of the situation, and Khai picked up on it immediately, despite his injuries.
“What’s…” Khai coughed again, “…wrong, Cap’?”
“Do you have shell shock?”
The smile quickly vanished from Khai’s face. “How’d… you find out?”
“Trall sent your medical records to Byyner. He ordered me to arrest you.” Khai instinctively reached for his pistol. Dah saw the motion and stiffened. “Relax. I’m not bringing you in.”
“You’re not?” Puar, Brix, Naad, Koon and Khai all asked at the same time.
“No,” Dah said. “In fact, you’re already dead as far as I’m concerned.”
“What do you mean?” Khai asked, grimacing in pain.
“You missed one,” said Dah, with a devious grin.
“Think they’ll buy it?” Puar asked with hope in his tone.
“For a while,” Dah shrugged. “At least until they identify all the bodies in there.”
�
�Where should I go?” Khai asked.
“Here,” Dah said, tossing something at Khai. Khai winced in pain as he jerked to catch it. It was a codepad, and from the looks of it, the device went to a ship of some kind. “It’s space worthy. I’d suggest making a break for Seryys Four or Five. Lie low for a while. At least until you can charter a ship with an Eve’Zon drive to get out of the system.” Dah paused. “In fact, break in and make it look like a robbery. I’ll file the paperwork in two days. The ship is located in a storage garage on thirty-one Saber Avenue, just south of the RLD.”
“Dah,” it was the voice of Captain Byyner. “Do you have Khai in custody yet?”
“No, sir,” Dah answered, looking straight at Khai. “And I don’t think we ever will.”
“What do you mean?”
“Khai failed at disarming all of the bombs. One of the charges went off on the conference level of the shield generator building while Khai was inside. He didn’t make it.”
There was a very long pause. Then Byyner let out a sharp sigh. “It was probably better that way anyway. He died an honorable death—the death of a soldier.”
“I agree.”
Khai slowly got to his feet and removed his flak jacket. There was a dark, circular bruise the size of a man’s fist on his chest right over his heart. “Damn, that hurts!”
They all looked at Brix. He shrugged with a boyish grin. “It was a good shot, though. Right?” They all shook their heads, rolling their eyes. “Besides, I knew Khai was wearing a vest. That’s why I only shot once. If he was Vyysarri, he would have raged and charged us.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Puar said, eyeing the good-sized bruise and clapping a hand down on Brix’s shoulder.
“Now get out of here!” Dah said to Khai.
“Here,” Khai said, tossing him something. “This is how you can contact me anywhere, any time. It’s a dedicated com unit to me. I need you to find out where Trall is, so I can pay him a visit.”
“Khai!” Dah snapped. “You’re a wanted man. You’ve got a death warrant on your head. And you want to march into the sabercat’s den?”
“You are one crazy son of a bitch, Khai. You know that?” Puar asked.
It was barely dawn when Khai used industrial, hydraulic metal cutters to make a man-sized door in the garage door. He hadn’t slept since the Vyysarri attack; he imagined his former team hadn’t either. He went home briefly to fetch a few personal effects and, most importantly, his pills. With one last look at his small apartment, he turned his back never expecting to see it again. He felt a pang of regret as he used the codepad to disarm the ship’s alarm system and fire up the hoverpads that lined the flat bottom of the ship and its engines. As the lights came on in the garage, detecting movement, Khai could make out the exact design of the ship. It was cylindrical with a slightly curved, flatter bottom, stout wings that jutted out from the sides at the rear of the vessel that housed engine pods and an aerodynamic bow where the cockpit was located. It looked like a heap with several patched up spots in the hull plating denoted by a slight differentiation in color between new and old plates. But, as long as it could make orbit, he didn’t particularly care. The inside was nice enough, though. Not a presidential ship by any stretch of the imagination, but it had all the comforts of home. The ship, overall, was fifty feet long and fifteen feet wide. Behind the cockpit was a small, but roomy, kitchen/dining area where the hatch to the outside was also located. Moving aft, he had to go through the bathroom to get to the bedroom. The last fifteen feet of the ship was dedicated to the engines in the form of a small engineering section with hatches that gave access to the crawlspaces belowdecks.
As he settled into pilot’s chair, the onboard computer spoke to him in a sultry female voice, “Welcome aboard the Star Splitter.” Catchy name, he thought. “Please state your request.”
“Give engine status,” he ordered.
“Primed and ready, sir” she said.
“Open garage door,” he ordered again.
“Complying,” she responded as the garage door lifted.
“Transfer controls to manual,” placing his hands on the control yoke.
“Controls transferred,” she said.
“Let’s see what this baby can do!”
“Colonel Khail?” the computer asked.
Khai paused, eyebrows raised, looking up at the roof of the cockpit. “Um, yeah?”
“I have a message left remotely from Captain Dah. Would you like me to play it?”
“Yeah, let’s hear it,” he said, looking at the main screen imbedded in the cockpit paneling.
The smiling face of his new friend Dack’Tandy Dah blinked into view. “Hey Khai. I just wanted to say ‘good luck’ because you’re gonna need it, buddy. And furthermore, take good care of the Star Splitter. She’s only on loan to you.” The cordial smile whipped off his face in an instant. “You so much as scratch her and I’m taking it out of your hide. Got it?” The cordial smile returned. “Now, I’ll let you know where Trall is the moment I find out. Good hunting, and may the Founders smile upon you.”
Heeding his friend’s word, he gingerly maneuvered the ship out of the garage and into the alley, making sure he was well clear of the building and lifted off. The air traffic was thick with hovercars, skybuses, shuttles and other ships. He pulled into traffic and headed for the departure area where ships waited their turn to leave orbit. Once he was in line to depart, he spoke: “Computer.”
“Yes Colonel? And please—call me Joon.”
Joon. Khai liked that name; he would never forget the nice lady who used to feed him free pie when he was nothing more than a street urchin. He had to smile… and he did. He could almost taste the pie again. For several decades, he had wanted to return to that little café in the slums, but it was destroyed by gang activity almost twenty years earlier.
“Okay, Joon. In return, just call me Khai. I’m not in the military anymore.”
“As you wish. What is your question?”
“How long ‘til we’re cleared to leave orbit?”
“One hour.”
“I need some rest. Please wake me up at that time. I’ll be in my quarters.”
“As you wish, Khai.”
Khai kicked off his boots and lay down on the bed. It was quite comfortable. He grabbed the selector and turned on the Net’Vyyd. He saw something on the news that shook him to his inner-most core. Suddenly, he wasn’t tired anymore…
Pual’Branen Puar, still in his riot gear, stormed the Hall of Justice with the burning fury of a hundred suns. He had walked all night to get there. He nearly sprinted up the stairs to the main entrance that was flanked with a long row of granite columns, six on each side of the grand, wooden double doors.
In each of the columns, a face was carved. Each carving represented one of the twelve Founders of Seryys. It was said that tens of thousands of years ago, the Seryysans—known by a different name then, had the ability to travel the stars and had come to the planet… legend said they actually crashed on Seryys and their ship was destroyed.
It was said that before they crashed, they were highly advanced—even more so than the Seryysans of the current age. It was said that there might be others out there, like the founders, but they were most likely in another galaxy, or at the very least, on the far side of this galaxy.
With no technology, they were forced to start over. They had to rebuild an entire civilization from the ground up. Over millennia, the knowledge of interstellar travel and the memory of gallivanting across the stars faded into a dim memory where only ships of wood sailed the rivers, lakes, seas and oceans of Seryys. But, like all intelligent species, the art was always present, just waiting to be discovered—or rediscovered, in the case of the Seryysans. This civilization blossomed into what was known now as Seryys.
“Hey!” a gruff voice shouted.
“What?” Puar snapped.
“You can’t have that weapon in here! Only authorized personnel are allowed to carr
y firearms in the Hall of Justice.”
Not stopping, he pulled his badge and threw it on the floor. It slid up to the security guard’s feet. “Read it!”
He sprinted through the lavishly decorated, marble floored, pillar-lined main lobby, literally punched the lift car button and then tapped his foot impatiently, still fuming. The door slid open and before the lift car could even ding, he was in and hitting the button to the Honorifical Office repeatedly.
His anger had not dissipated in the slightest by the time he reached the two-hundredth floor a moment later. He stalked out into the Honorifical Office. The chair was facing away from him, behind the lavish desk, flanked by the Seryys flags on either side of it.
“Brother!” Pual’Branen cried.
The chair turned. How could you do this to Khai? What the hell were you thinking? You asshole! were just a few of the thousands of angry phrases that came to mind as he prepared to confront his brother over Khai’s warrant. But the person in the chair sucked every ounce of anger out of him like atmosphere from a breached hull in the dead vacuum of space.
Pual’Branen stopped dead in his tracks.
“Mother?” he whispered. “What are you…? Where’s…?” Her emerald eyes betrayed the deep anguish she felt. And he knew that something terrible had happened. The sadness on her face made her aged features look even older.
“Something awful has happened. Your brother…” she cried. “Your brother…”
She couldn’t go on. All she could do was turn on the Net’Vyyd to the breaking news. It was an aerial shot of Upper Seryys just outside of Aurora. Smoke billowed up from a luxury high-rise, a gaping hole spewing flames from its side like a glass and metallic serpent with fire for blood filled the screen.
“It was several hours ago,” the female newscaster said, her voice quiet and reserved—almost mournful, “that our beloved Prime Minister lived his final moments in terror as he and his driver, and long-time friend, Ralm’Es Ra, careened to their deaths into the side of this high-rise. Eyewitnesses reported that something went wrong with his private shuttle.”
“There are unconfirmed reports of hundreds dead inside the building and a full-scale investigation is already underway. Our hearts go out-”
The Seryys Chronicles: Death Wish Page 7
