MUTINY RISING (THE ALORIAN WARS Book 3)

by Drew Avera

  “What do you want?” Harager barked. He ran his hand through the long hairs jutting from his chin. The hairs were gray the last time Ilium saw Harager, but he was the most vain man Ilium had ever met. He was honestly surprised the older man ever let the grays be seen at all.

  “I’ve been on board for a couple of weeks, and I have someone who is grating on my nerves to the point I have dreams of murdering him in his sleep. I need to transfer him to another command.” The words spilled from Ilium’s lips so fast that even he thought they came out sounding like one long word.

  “Not happening. I told you before, too many changes too quickly will get you looked at too closely. I have everything under control for you to rise through the ranks, but this stuff takes time.” Harager sat back in his chair, still playing with his beard nonchalantly. “I’ll be honest, three promotions in as many months should have sent up a red flag. You’re on borrowed time as it is.”

  Ilium bit his tongue. There were words coursing through his mind that, outside of the mission he was on, would have his tongue cut from his mouth. Perhaps I am on borrowed time, he thought. “I understand, but surely there is a way to make this person stand out as a threat to the Greshian Empire.”

  “We did that, don’t you remember? Brendle Quin was the one you felt was onto you, and we had to remove what threat was there. Of course, you said that he was a threat, but we found no evidence of that being entirely accurate. Never mind the fact getting Captain Elastra on board with tossing Quin off the ship was harder than we thought it would be,” Harager said condescendingly. Ilium was relieved when the man’s hand found something to do other than tug on his beard hair. Though, fidgeting with the glass ball sitting on his desk was just as distracting.

  “I thought he was a threat at the time, and if he wasn’t then, he surely would be now. It was only a matter of time before he was onto me.”

  “That’s why you were briefed to keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. If you do that, then no one has any reason to suspect anything. The concept is simple enough that most children understand it.”

  “It’s not my fault he was around when I called to check in. I had to come up with a cover story on the fly. He was skeptical and I needed him silenced.”

  “First thing, why would you call to check in without ensuring you were alone? And second, you came up with a story that sounded like fantasy; of course he was going to suspect something. Which brings me to my next question. What did I tell you about revealing too much information or being too open with whom you encounter about your mission? I warned you that trying to show your ass would get you visibility that you don’t want. If you would let us work things from our end, then you wouldn’t have to do anything. Your expectation for what you think your destiny will be is exceeding our plans for you, and it’s happening too quickly. I need you to stay with the original plan, ride this tour out and move on while we get the other pieces in play.”

  Ilium shook his head. He hated being talked down to and being compared to a child made him want to send his fist through the holographic image. Unfortunately, Harager’s real face wouldn’t be on the receiving end of his anger.

  “Shake your head all you want, you little shit. I’m the one making things happen for you and if not for the short timeline, I would have your insubordinate little ass tossed from that ship in a heartbeat. There are far more suitable people who could be in your position, and without the pressing timetable, I would be willing to see someone else in your place. I don’t owe you a damn thing, so you can wipe that smirk off your face and do something about the chip on your shoulder.”

  Ilium looked up at the man, glowering. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder, but I think I have the right to ensure I am in a safe environment to do what I was called to do.”

  Harager nodded. “That’s easier to do without your making everything dramatic.”

  “I’m not making it dramatic, I just work with imbeciles.”

  Harager laughed. “I can relate to that.”

  If looks could kill, Ilium thought, squeezing his fists tightly. “Do something about this man.”

  Harager exhaled loudly. “I tell you what. I have another man on the inside. I’ll contact him and we will devise a plan. You’ll be contacted by him. Don’t call me again.”

  Harager disappeared from the holographic image, leaving Ilium alone and angry. He hated being talked to in such a way. He remembered why condescending people grated on his nerves so much. His thoughts went to his father, the abusive parent with the unreasonable expectations for how his son should behave. Poru Gyl spoke like that to everyone, though. Ilium didn’t know if he hated his father for treating him that harshly, or if the fact that Poru was killed for being an asshole to the wrong person, thereby forcing Ilium to grow up without a father and having to suffer with all the problems life in the Gyl family cursed him with. It was the suffering that forced him out of that life and into something more lucrative. Some people might say he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, but from Ilium’s viewpoint, things were steadily getting better. He was closing in on his destiny with each passing breath. That still doesn’t mean I want to get shit from people who think they’re superior to me.

  “I swear, if I take control of this navy, I will fly a ship right over to you and destroy your entire planetary system,” he spat, falling into his chair and leaning back, eyes closed. This was the time of day when he just wanted to drift into sleep and let his dreams carry him away from reality. After more than three years on Greshian naval ships, Ilium had mastered falling to sleep anywhere. It wasn’t easy with the constant noise and the bells ringing every half hour, but eventually he could tune most of that stuff out. As he settled into a comfortable bliss he heard a knock at the door. His first instinct was to ignore it, to not face whatever issue or problem was about to step through the threshold and disrupt his life. But he was the commanding officer now, and that made him responsible, even when he didn’t want to be.

  Another knock, louder this time.

  “Come in,” he ordered, disgruntled by the disturbance.

  He watched the door cycle open from the corner of his eye. In rushed Vesna, his arms dangling at his side as he walked towards his commanding officer. "Sir, the pirate vessel has been reeled in and is now on board. Do you wish to oversee the inspection?"

  Ilium turned in his chair and looked up at Vesna. "Is it ready to be opened?"

  "No, sir."

  “Then why would I want to waste my time going down there if we aren’t going to see what’s inside?” The question sounded more like a whine than he intended, but he thought better than to backpedal.

  “Chief Harso has a team of men standing by to inspect the ship before it can be opened, sir.”

  Ilium nodded. "By all means, lead the way."

  Vesna waited for Ilium to rise before he turned and stalked out of the office. The passageways of the Hamæråté were narrower than the ones on the Telran, Ilium noted for the hundredth time. Everything is smaller here.

  Vesna led Ilium to the cargo bay where an armed security detail was already standing by for orders to enter the transport.

  "Attention on deck," Vesna shouted, but it lacked enthusiasm to Ilium's ears. Everyone in the cargo bay stood at attention with the exception of the armed men who were exempt from the command.

  "Carry on," Ilium said as he approached the perimeter surrounding the transport. His eyes gazed upon the vessel in search of any information that might identify the craft. No such information existed, though. He doubted the small ship even had a serial number that could be used to trace it back to any particular person. Pirates are good at covering their asses, he thought as the lead investigator stepped towards him.

  "Sir, my men are standing by."

  Ilium looked at the man. His gangly body was proof he had spent most of his life floating in the dark. Ilium doubted the man even enjoyed planetary life and having to endure constant gravity. Men like this were becoming more common since Greshia b
egan its campaign to extend its control across the Alorian Galaxy. I wonder if we all will look like this man eventually, Ilium wondered.

  “Very well, have your men open her up,” Ilium ordered.

  “Roger that,” the man said, turning to direct his men to the task at hand.

  “Who is that?” Ilium asked.

  “That’s Chief Harso, sir. He’s the head of security on the Hamæråté. Why do you ask?” Lieutenant Vesna replied.

  “No particular reason,” Ilium said as he tried to recall why the man’s face seemed so familiar. “He looks like someone I may have met before, but the Telran was my first command and all of the department heads were officers on that ship.”

  Lieutenant Vesna nodded. “Chief Harso has been on board for about four years, sir. His tour was extended around the same time we received word of your transfer here. I suppose Central Command wanted to maintain consistency leading up to the change of command.”

  Ilium could hear the tinge of distaste in the junior officer’s voice, but he no longer wanted to win the man over. At this point, Ilium would settle for a second version of how he handled Brendle Quin, only this time ensuring the man was dead, orders or not.

  The two men stood silently as the security crew inspected the transport vessel. They combed the craft meticulously. If it was rigged to blow, they would find out before anyone had an opportunity to be hurt or killed. That was the benefit of having a crew well versed in explosives disposal, a key element of his scout craft’s mission as it led the way for the larger ships to traverse the galaxy.

  Ilium felt he had been standing outside the transport ship for hours before the security chief made his way over to him. “Sir, the external inspection is complete and we do not register any triggers that could cause the vessel to detonate when we breach it. Though, I do advise that nonessential personnel should clear the deck just in case.”

  “Duly noted, but I’m staying,” Ilium said as Vesna moved to walk away. Ilium cut off a smile as the younger man pivoted and returned to where he had been standing. It’s nice to know you have no balls, Ilium thought.

  “Yes sir.”

  Chief Harso walked back to his men, nodding his head to inform the men to begin the breach. Ilium watched from where he stood, next to his nervous lieutenant who proved he did not have what it took to oversee a dangerous job. It was just another thing for Ilium to take note of when it came to justifying dispatching the man.

  “All clear!” Chief Harso ordered as his men approached the transport with a cutting torch. Bright, blue flames ate into the metallic skin of the ship, sending arcs of flame cascading over the heads of the men cutting their way into it. Within minutes, the transport was opened and the contents available for Ilium to see. It was dark, frost biting on the bulkhead as steam erupted from the opening when the warm air inside of the cargo bay met with the escaping frigidity of the transport. He expected the transport to be empty, lifeless.

  “We have something!” Chief Harso called.

  Ilium moved forward, not knowing if it was safe to do so. I’m the captain, he thought. I don’t need permission to move on my ship. “What did you find?”

  His question went unanswered for several moments as his stomach turned over. What they could have found. Was it a bomb? Could the Hamæråté be in danger? He moved closer to the action, closer to witnessing what the security team had stormed inside the vessel to investigate.

  “We have a body,” Chief Harso replied as he stepped outside of the transport.

  Ilium felt a tinge of relief. “How long do you think since the person expired?”

  Chief Harso bent his neck, the vertebrae popping loudly. “Thing is, sir, the body isn’t dead. We found a faint heartbeat, but it’s fading fast.”

  “Really? Well, why don’t we do something about that?” Ilium said.

  Vesna stepped in. “Good call, sir. All pirates are to be terminated by direct order of Central Command. Chief, please see that the pirate is taken care of.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Wait,” Ilium said. “I did not order you to kill the man.”

  “But, sir‒”

  “But nothing. I’m the captain of this ship and I’m ordering you to put the man in stasis until we can bring him out and interrogate him.”

  “That violates proper protocol,” Lieutenant Vesna replied. It was yet another moment where the lieutenant questioned Ilium, trying his patience.

  “Proper protocol is to do what is necessary to spread the seed of the Greshian Empire. This man may have information that can be used to ensure we meet our mission.”

  “Pirates are to be killed, sir.”

  “He will be killed, but does it matter when, if he is confined in stasis? Chief, have your men do as I say.”

  Chief Harso looked at Vesna, then back to Ilium. “Yes, sir.” He turned and moved back to the crowd of men surrounding the vessel.

  Ilium stood and watched as his order was played out before his eyes. This man was the last person to see the Replicade and he may know whether or not Brendle Quin is alive or dead, he thought. All I have to do is keep him alive long enough to get what I need out of him. After that, he can die along with the rest.

  Chapter Five: Brendle

  “No!”

  The dark dressed man reached out with his long, wiry fingers towards Anki as she tried to take the peculiar young girl’s hand. Brendle watched as they made eye contact, the girl looking into Anki’s gaze, two sets of orbs reflecting back at one another until they appeared to become a single unit. It was a brief encounter, surreal, and then it fell away as reality plunged him back into the moment. Where did she come from? What’s wrong? The questions kept coming to mind as Brendle tried to wrap his mind around what was going on. The girl came out of nowhere, appearing behind Brendle and Anki within a matter of seconds, but from where, Brendle could not be sure. She just seemed to appear out of thin air and, within a breadth of a single gasp, she found them. And brought whatever she was hoping to escape with her. The girl’s pale skin seemed to shine as if something green radiated from within her. Her eyes were clouded over, but not so much that Brendle could not see the amber tint in her irises. They were the same color as Anki’s, but he had not noticed them before Anki touched her. Or he had, but didn’t think about it. His head was swimming with too many sensory inputs at the moment to be able to tell.

  The man’s hand tore Anki’s grip away from the young girl as the other man clasped the child’s wrists together with shackles far too large to not be overkill, in Brendle’s mind. “Get your hands off of her,” Brendle said, tempted to reach for the gun under his jacket and shoot the man holding Anki’s wrist in the face. It might have been an escalation in violence, but for some reason it felt warranted, necessary. He took a deep breath, thinking that he must not be thinking clearly, that something was wrong. Everything seemed to be moving off kilter, and Brendle felt more disoriented the more he grappled with trying to comprehend what was happening. The only two emotions clouding his mind at the moment were confusion and a desire to kill the two men. Logic is a leaf on the wind, he thought as he tried to gather himself.

  “This girl is a fugitive and must be taken into custody. It is dangerous to touch her. There is a possibility you have been infected by her. Perhaps we should take you two into custody as well,” the man threatened. His eyes were deep-set and scathing. It was like looking into the eyes of a demon, but the comparison shifted when Brendle blinked and the man looked normal again. There’s something wrong with my eyes, he thought.

  “Like hell,” Anki said. The bitterness in her voice almost sounded as if it was coming from someone else. Brendle looked at her, the cold glare in her eyes more menacing than the first time he’d seen her. That time she had a gun leveled in his direction, knowing that he was potentially there to kill her, to wipe out the last remaining Luthian. He was struck by how suddenly her mood shifted. Weren’t we just having a nice conversation moments ago, and now everything seems to have taken a
turn south. He looked around, but the crowded streets seemed far away, and no one was looking in their direction. Brendle had the distinct feeling that they were in some kind of a bubble, obscured from public view, which meant anything could happen and there would be no witnesses.

  “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” the second man said, his face more solemn, nonthreatening, like the opposite side of a coin.

  Brendle had seen this tactic displayed more than once, but it always ended in the worst of ways. They used niceties to fool you into thinking you were safe. Once you let down your guard they, have you where they want you: in custody—or worse.

  He caught another glimpse of the girl, her eyes looking different this time, but the tears running down her face were all too familiar. He felt where they were coming from, the fear, the confusion. These men were after more than just arresting her, citing her as a threat. Brendle could see it in their cold, dead stares. His heart ached for her, yet he knew nothing about her at all. He felt a longing to know her, to comfort her. Brendle knelt down, looking her in the face. She did not seem to make eye contact with him, but more seemed to look through him with her own haunting stare.

  “What’s your name?” Brendle asked gently.

  “Don’t answer that,” the first man ordered. His gangly body loomed over her menacingly. The man was getting on Brendle’s nerves, his hostility and threatening nature making Brendle feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He knew something wasn’t right; at least he felt it.

  The girl looked afraid, but she answered in defiance of the order. “Carista,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper, but it seemed to speak straight into Brendle’s soul. He could feel each syllable like a release, each structure of her name like a gentle wave casting him further out to sea.

  “Silence,” both men said simultaneously, the word ending in an echoing hiss. When the second man put a gloved hand on the girl’s shoulder, she winced as if in pain, or maybe it was just fear. Whatever it was, it made Brendle want to lash out at the man, to tear his head from his shoulders and stamp in the puddles of blood that formed as it dripped from the severed neck. The dark thought caught Brendle off guard and he shook the thought from his mind, once again rejoining reality. These aren’t my thoughts, but where are they coming from? He felt as if his mind was being hijacked.