The admiral looked down at his desk, then turned his gaze to the window to stare into the biosphere as his mind swirled in shock and disbelief. His friend, a woman he'd grown up with and always thought so highly of, was gone. Dead. He was supposed to keep her safe, along with every other person in Star Guild. Plus, he had promised to deliver the enemy to her doorstep for the death of her son, Samuel.
He turned, his anger rising as he wondered why this woman had to inform him of Savanna's passing at this very moment, when he was at his worst. And why did Savanna die, and why did this woman have Savanna's ID card? And why did any of this matter anymore?
Chase fumbled with the ID card, placing it in his pocket. He didn't know Naveya from a speck of sand, so she shouldn't have the card anymore, and his uncle wasn't in any kind of a mental state that it should go to him, either.
“Uncle James, I think you need your space right now. We'll leave and I'll check on you soon enough, okay?” He had spoken to his uncle like a fragile child, something he hadn't meant to do, but nonetheless it had slipped out that way.
“Thank you, Chase, but I'll need you to stay.” He gave Naveya a nod. “Don't get me wrong, if you have an antidote I'm very pleased, but right now isn't a time that I can discuss it with you. I'm not functioning on all cylinders and I thank you for coming to see me. For right now, I need to speak with my nephew in private.”
Naveya stood, dipped her head as a sign of respect and apologized for the inconvenience, then added, “I'll get to work on the antidote.”
Admiral Byrd stared at her as she left, watching as MiMi followed her down the hallway, trotting along as happy as could be. Then he looked at Chase and gestured to the now empty chair. “Please sit.”
“You need some time alone, Uncle,” said Chase.
“That's the last of what I need right now.”
Chase sat, respectfully folding his hands in his lap, waiting for his uncle to speak.
Admiral Byrd stated, “Chase, I'm moving my bed into your room.”
And of all the things his uncle might have communicated at this time—this was it? “Okay. I've been sharing a room with Devon. We'll have our beds moved to another area as soon as possible.”
Admiral Byrd shook his head. “No, you'll both stay.”
“Yes, sir.” He wanted to ask why, but felt the timing wasn't right. Perhaps his uncle wasn't thinking clearly right at this moment?
“You and Devon are the only ones I can fully trust.”
Did Captain Stripe die or something? What happened to his trust in her? “What's the matter, Uncle?”
The admiral remained silent while an air of unease filled the room. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and shifted his weight. “Chase, Captain Stripe isn't telling me the truth. It's a long story, but she's withholding important information for reasons unknown. All I can do is create stories in my head about her, and none of them lead down a happy road. There's a lot to discuss, but I'm not in the best state of mind to do that right now. If you can get anything out of her, anything out of the ordinary, then let me know.”
Another spy job? Chase looked down. “I was almost killed the last time you had me do something like that. I'm not a good spy.”
Admiral Byrd buried his face in his hands. “You're right. I'm sorry. Forget what I just said.”
It looked as if his uncle's eyes couldn't stay open much longer, so Chase rose from his seat and walked over to place his hand reassuringly on his uncle's shoulder. “Let me get you to our room. You can sleep in my bed for the time being while I get your bed moved. Sergeant Manning will be more than happy to guard the door while you catch some shut eye and the platoon will gladly volunteer to guard your room, if need be. They all love you.”
He helped Admiral Byrd through the door and into the hallway where the admiral suddenly halted. “We have to stop this, Chase. We have less than a week until the poisonous attack occurs and who knows if they'll release it sooner. Our entire race depends upon us, even those outside of the biosphere who are convinced that we're traitors. We're still in service to them and it's our duty to preserve their lives.”
∞
Prime Director Zim Nocki was wearing a burlap sack over his head, with a rope loosely secured around his neck. His hands were tied behind his back and the sack was trapping the moisture from his breath and blinding him from everything but small rays of light poking through the coarse weave of the burlap. He was being led somewhere and he had to continually guess which direction he was being taken. He was doing well with it, knowing the Capitol Building like the back of his hand, until they brought him into the parking garage, pushed him into a hovervan and drove him through the city. After a while, he couldn't remember the many turns and lost his mental map.
When the hovervan stopped, they helped him out and onto his feet, then pushed him forward. He walked up several steps and into a building, then was led in and out of rooms and down many hallways, all of which seemed to lead into a huge circle. In the last room he entered, he saw bright light shining through the burlap sack—a huge change from the other rooms. When his captors didn't immediately walk him out of this room and into another, he asked the obvious question, “Where am I?”
He felt a heavy hand grab his shoulder and shove him into a chair, then strap him down. The rope was loosened from around his neck and the sack was pulled off his head, making him squint from the sudden exposure to bright light. He shielded his eyes with shackled hands, again asking, “Where am I?”
“You're here to deliver a speech to the entire starbase,” replied Shanraing.
“What? I didn't agree to this. What am I going to say? I...I'm not prepared! What are you doing to me?!” He attempted to stand, but strong hands held him in place.
“Just speak the truth. Tell the starbase exactly who you are, what you're here to do, and name your superior,” responded Shanraing.
Zim squinted some more, but still couldn't see. They had either turned the lighting directly on him, or there was something wrong with his eyes because they were still trying to adjust. “I'm not saying anything—I'm not prepared!” He knew his face was reddening because his skin was burning.
“Turn down the lights and give him some space,” said Shanraing.
The lights dimmed, so he could finally see his surroundings. He was in a meeting room, and when he saw green leafy vines curling around the walls he immediately stated, “I'm in Savanna Leven's meeting room, Sphere 6. Why am I here?”
With a sharp edge in her tone, Shanraing responded by saying, “Because Savanna and Chase were the only Overseers you couldn't buy. We're safe here and more people in this Sphere despise you than fear you. Here, we'll be able to broadcast and you can also explain to Star Guild why you had Savanna killed.”
Zim held back his shock, but not the wicked smile. “So, she is dead.”
There was silence in the room, then some whispers.
“You didn't know?” asked Shanraing.
“I tried to kill her and her friend, but they went missing after the attempt. I'm glad to hear that my efforts didn't fail...eventually.”
Shanraing retorted, “You couldn't wait two weeks to kill her with the rest of the population?”
Zim could finally see everything transpiring as he scanned the room and snickered, “I can kill who I want, whenever I want.” The bandannas were off the men who had kidnapped him, but none of them looked familiar. They were much smaller than him, so they were human. He stretched his neck as he asked, “Can I sit on a couch or something else?”
Ignoring his request, Shanraing replied, “Why did you kill her?”
Am I sitting on something sharp? “I'll tell you if you let me sit somewhere else, even the floor.”
“Do you like your chair? We had it brought in especially for you. Answer my question, Zim.”
He moved his buttocks, but couldn't find a change of position that was at all comfortable. “She broke into my HDC and decoded the kill-off, that's why.”
“What's the kill-off?” asked Shanraing.
“You know what it...” He had stopped mid sentence, realizing what she was doing. “I'm not answering any more questions! Kill me and let it be done, woman!”
Shanraing glanced at a man in the corner of the room, giving him a nod. Then she said, “Ahh, but killing you would deny you a valuable soul lesson, hard earned by your evil deeds. Perhaps it's time for you to examine your conscience...just a bit?” And having said that, Shanraing signaled to one of the men in the room who immediately walked over to a table in the corner and picked up a gold helmet of some sort. It was laced with clear quartz crystal and shimmered beautifully as it caught the light.
Shanraing observed the miserable look of dread on Zim's face as he watched the man carrying the strange object toward him.
Shanraing announced, “Yes, Zim, it's recently been revealed that I am an Anointed One and this is the Crown of Accountability, the same crown that was created eons ago to insure that those who wanted to rule would do so for the right reasons.”
Up until that moment, Zim had thought its existence was just a myth and that the concept of there being anointed beings who were the only ones capable of activating it was absurd, but now that he was staring at an object that fit its description perfectly, that meant that all, or at least part of the old myths and legends were true...unless it was a fake.
The man unceremoniously slipped the crown easily onto Zim's head so that it fit him snugly. Nothing of his face was exposed but his nose, down to his chin.
Shanraing demanded, “What's the kill-off, Zim?”
“You've gotta' do better than sit a fake piece of art on my head,” sneered Zim, but then he started to perspire as strong memories began to well up inside of him, then suddenly he was feeling millions of agonizing, painful emotions experienced by all of the people he'd killed during his lifetime, and there were millions of them, all crying out and pleading for themselves and for their loved ones to be spared as they each realized they were doomed. He felt the helplessness they each felt knowing that their children...their parents...everyone they loved was already dead, or would soon die, and that they couldn't do anything to prevent it.
The agony of feeling the results of what he'd caused was overwhelming, which made his own terror of suddenly knowing that the Crown of Accountability was real seem trivial.
But, even so, Zim set his jaw in determination. He still wasn't talking, even though he now knew that the helmet was no myth, which terrified him because its torture would obviously continue.
Shanraing gave a quick shrug and calmly said, “Killing millions cleanly with the push of a button, or by simply executing an order is quick and easy. Your previous victim's mental anguish was brief, but now let's see how well you handle the physical pain and suffering in addition to the mental anguish of the innocent victims in the past that you so carelessly exterminated by experimenting on them with the lethal batrachotoxin doses.” She took a step forward and gracefully waved a hand over the golden crown.
Zim instantly recoiled from the chair, grimaced in pain and grunted. He had begun to experience an accumulation of the physical pain his experiment victims had felt when they began to uncontrollably vomit green bile, scratch and grab at their abdomens until they dropped to the ground writhing and kicking and screeching in agony as body fluids spewed and muscles contracted as their spines and all of their joints bowed backwards, contorting their bodies into freakish positions.
Shanraing again waved her hand over the crown.
The pain stopped and Zim's sweat dripped from his face and his breath was heavy. “Don't...will not say.”
“You will.” Shanraing waved her hand again, this time holding it still for a moment as she concentrated.
Zim screeched, his fists clenching as spittle shot from his mouth as every muscle in his body went into spasm, and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore the searing pain eased. He took a huge gulp of air, exhaled and did it over and over again, then panting while bracing himself for the next wave of excruciating pain, and when each wave came it was worse. He no longer cared about luxuries or bonuses for successfully committing genocide. He cared about nothing but a quick death for himself.
Then it stopped.
Zim was slumped over in the chair, held only by the straps, his head hanging and swaying back and forth in delirium as his heart raced and his ears rang. Snot ran over his lips and off his chin as slobber drooled from out of his mouth. He felt that he could no longer control his bodily functions and was unable to determine whether or not he was sitting in his own urine or if it was blood, or both.
“What's the kill-off?” Shanraing asked a third time.
His eyes were wet and swollen, blurring Shanraing from view. But, fearing another wave of pain, he gasped, “Okay...let me...catch...my breath.” He was panting like an overheated dog while experiencing paralysis down his limbs. His arms could have been torn from his body and he wouldn't have known the difference.
Shanraing nodded at a short man standing next to her. He grabbed a bucket from the floor and threw ice cold water on Zim. It stung, but then it felt calming a second later, distracting Zim from what he was experiencing and making him want to thank the man for throwing it on him. But, even through his slobbering delirium, he was able to reconsider his moment of gratitude and said nothing.
Shanraing broke the silence by saying, “For the last two days, Zim, we've been recording you. Everything via holovid, every word you said against the human race will be heard by them if you don't cooperate with us. They'll see how you detest them and how you've lied to them.”
Zim thought, I'm screwed no matter what I do, but if the pain could just stop...!
The straps were biting into his sweaty chest as he hung limply in his chair, still wearing the now heavy crown and barely able to muster enough strength to faintly say, “The kill-off is an order from Lien-L. He's my direct superior. I was hired to kill off every human being on Starbase Matrona so we could start over again with new humans.” He peered up to eye Shanraing, hoping his explanation was good enough to stop the torture.
“Now, Zim, answer this question and I'm only going to ask it once. Your answer will determine what I do with you next.” She massaged her neck, eying him. “Will you publicly inform the humans of the truth, or will they have to find it out on their own through the recorded holovids?”
Zim replied weakly,“Yes, yes, I'll tell them. I'll shout it from the rooftops. Just take this thing off me.”
Shanraing removed the crown and gestured for her assistants to lift him from the chair and when they did, he tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he fell to the floor.
“Pick him up and bring him over to the couch.”
They did so, and when Zim felt the soft cushions and fine fabric against his body, he wanted to curl up and fall into a deep sleep, but he knew he had to think of a way out of what he had just agreed to, because he knew he'd be killed one way or another if he didn't. If he publicly confessed, Lien-L would have his head. If he didn't confess, Shanraing would most assuredly torture him to death with the crown, intentionally or not, which was a much worse way to go. But, he said, “I'll be dead whether I do or don't help you.”
Shanraing sat next to him and patted his leg. “You'll be safe.”
“Lien-L will see when I go public. He sees everything. I'll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life—that's if he doesn't kill me an hour after I betray him and his cause.”
“Ki-En and I have plans for you. That is, if you cooperate.”
He had to get to Lien-L and let him know what was happening, but how? His assistant couldn't help. He was tied up somewhere, or more likely dead.
“When do I go public?”
“Kell, turn on the HDC.”
A large man nodded and walked over to the HDC. He flipped a switch that turned on the screen with Zim talking to Shanraing in his office, a conversation that had transpired the day before.
“This is the first phase, Zim. The second phase will be a public apology from you, in addition to other things. The third phase is...well...not here, yet.”
Zim pointed to the screen. “What do you mean, the first phase?”
“The first phase consists of our conversations mixed with some of your conversations that we specifically selected and recorded, all spilling the beans one way or another. Next—”
“Spilling the beans? You mean to tell me that our conversations are being broadcast to the starbase?”
“Not just ours, Zim. Your conversations on the HDC with Lien-L are being looped as well.”
“Now?!”
“Yes, as of two minutes ago.”
Episode 9
Dirn Garum
Crystal checked the auxiliary fuel pump, then signaled a thumbs up through her Mech's viewing window to Wrench doing “techy stuff”. Daf was in the Mech to her right, waiting for them to complete the checklist so they could be on their way to Forever Mountain. She yawned and rubbed the last remaining blur from her eyes, the result of Crystal waking her in the dead of the night so she could hurry up and wait, apparently.
Wrench gave Crystal a nod and spoke into the HDC com link. “Crystal, I installed a new directional gyro, so let me know if it's set.”
Crystal clicked on the gyro utility function, then smiled and replied, “Yes, it's set.”
“Altimeter?”
“Set,” she replied, “and magnet generator—check.” She fastened her shoulder harness and strapped in, then pressed a few more buttons on the HDC. She again looked at Wrench who was now glaring back at her, not thrilled that she and Daf were actually going through with what he called “an ill advised excursion”.
The Veil Rising Page 29
