“We need to get out of here,” she said in his ear.
“Of course,” Maycare replied. “They’re trying to kill us.”
“No, you don’t understand—” she started, but the ground heaved upward as the whole chamber shook.
Unlike the earlier tremors, this quake lasted nearly half a minute, sending pieces of the ceiling falling to the magma below in great splashes of liquid rock. Maycare tried to shout, but his voice was lost in a deafening noise that sounded like an avalanche tumbling down a mountain. Looking up, he saw sheets of snow from outside spilling through the ceiling like a waterfall. As the snow hit the lava, it turned into a torrent of hot steam.
Against the scalding mist, Lord Maycare found Doric and pulled her to her feet.
“Time to leave!” he said.
“Wait!” Doric said. “I can’t find Henry!”
They looked until Henry’s shape became a dull outline with poor posture. Doric grabbed him while Maycare tugged on her arm.
“We’re going the wrong way!” she said, yanking Maycare toward the way they came in.
“No, we’re getting the power source,” he barked over his shoulder. “Come on!”
He was insane, Doric thought. One the other hand, her own adrenaline was making her feel a little crazy herself.
She didn’t struggle as Maycare led her along.
The steam had started to thin. Doric could make out the walls around her, another tunnel apparently, although not a lava tube. She saw stalagmites jutting up like strangers milling in a crowd.
Both Doric and Henry collapsed, trying to catch their breath. Lord Maycare remained standing, surveying the surroundings.
“I hate this place,” Henry gasped.
“Agreed,” Doric replied.
“It was a lucky break, that earthquake,” Maycare said. “But I’ve always been lucky...”
“When can we go home?” Henry interrupted.
“We’re not leaving until we find that xenotech,” Maycare said. “I’m not letting Warlock Industries get another artifact. God knows what they’d do with it.”
“Alright,” Doric said. “Just give us a minute.”
While she rested, Doric watched the beam from Maycare’s flashlight darting around the tunnel. In the glare, she saw strands of white fur. For a second, she thought it might be alive, but the musty odor quickly told her otherwise.
“What is it?” Henry asked.
“A dead animal,” Doric replied, standing up.
“Big, too,” Maycare said. “Must’ve been dead a long time. It’s all skin and bones.”
“Look at the skull,” Doric pointed. “It’s like a bear of some sort.”
Maycare took the hide and gave it a shake. Then, dropping it, he started flashing the light around as if searching for something. The light stopped when it brightened a small stalagmite. Maycare gave the pointed column a sharp kick with his boot. The tip of the stone, about six inches from the point, broke off. Maycare picked it up and went back to the skin. He handed Doric the flashlight and started jamming the sharp rock into the belly of the creature’s fur.
“What are you doing?” Doric asked.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Let’s see how my luck’s holding out.”
Henry walked behind Lord Maycare and Professor Doric as she followed the data on her scanner. After an hour, they came to the source of the power readings at the end of yet another tunnel.
Henry struggled to see past Maycare and Doric as they peeked around the corner into a cavern, smaller than the one before but again laced with streams of flowing magma. In the center of the chamber, his back facing them, Skarlander stood atop a dais of stone where a crude altar had been built. His two bodyguards loitered nearby next to a grav sled hovering a few feet off the ground. Henry assumed the sled was to carry the xenotech in case it was too heavy to lift.
Skarlander turned, revealed something cradled in his arms like a newborn. It was a huge sapphire, the size of a pineapple, glowing with a radiant blue light. Skarlander’s face basked in the glow.
“Good,” Maycare said.
“How is this good?” Doric asked.
“They’re not expecting us.”
Maycare pulled the animal skin over him and, hidden beneath the white hide, charged headlong into the room. Seeing this bear-like creature rushing toward them, the two guards glanced at each other before running in the opposite direction toward one of the lava tubes. Maycare chased after them, howling madly.
Henry wanted to ask the Professor what was going on when he realized she was already dashing toward the stone platform. She jumped onto the dais and struck Skarlander across the head with a piece of stalagmite.
Skarlander dropped the sapphire and fell to his knees, holding the side of his bleeding face.
“Henry!” Doric shouted. “Get the crystal!”
Henry hesitated. The Professor must be crazy, he thought.
Doric barked at him again. “Do it!”
As if slapped, Henry jumped up and scrambled through the sandy dirt to the edge of the molten lava where the sapphire had landed. He could feel the intense heat searing his hands and face. Reaching down, he slipped his fingers around the jewel and was surprised by how cold it felt. He held it up so Doric could see, but Skarlander was holding her by the wrist.
Skarlander pointed at Henry.
“Give it to me!” Skarlander said.
“I don’t want to,” Henry replied.
“Do it,” Skarlander said, “or I’ll dump her in the lava!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Henry saw Maycare returning to the cave, running at full speed and without the animal skin. The two bodyguards were right on his heels, their weapons drawn. One of them fired, narrowly missing Lord Maycare.
Henry screamed in pain, noticing his shoulder was smoldering, apparently hit by the errant shot. Holding his shoulder, he also realized he was no longer holding the power source. Henry dropped to his knees trying to find the sapphire and saw a blue glimmer reflecting off the molten magma flowing a few feet away.
“Shit!” he said.
Everyone, including Lord Maycare and the two bodyguards, stopped and watched the crystal bobbing along.
Skarlander pushed Doric away and ran to the edge of the stream of burning rock. The crystal’s icy blue color began pulsating red as it sank deeper into the lava. Skarlander strained to reach it, but his fingers were inches too short.
As the artifact dipped completely below the surface, its pulsing light was still visible under the lava. The viscous magma began bubbling violently.
“Get on the grav sled,” Maycare told Doric. “Quickly!”
“Henry needs our help,” Doric said.
“I’ll get him,” Maycare said. “Now go!”
The river of lava, like an incoming tide, erupted from its banks, spewing waves of churning liquid like thick, glowing molasses.
Doric climbed onto the back of the grav sled, which was nothing more than a floating platform the size of a mattress. Heat and acrid smoke burned her eyes, filling them with tears. Even with blurred vision, she saw Lord Maycare dragging Henry to the sled.
Behind them, the floor flooded with lava as the level rose with each boiling burst of energy from the artifact.
The grav sled dipped as Henry jumped on beside Doric. Maycare pushed the sled until, running out of ground, he clambered on board. A swell of magma sent the grav sled lunging toward a random lava tube. Like a raft shooting the rapids, their barge jetted into the narrow passage and the darkness within.
Although Doric couldn’t see, she sensed they were moving incredibly fast. Also, her ears started popping, which either meant they were heading up to safety or deeper into the volcano. Although Doric knew she could never admit this to Maycare, she was terrified.
And then she was blinded again, this time by light.
Like a cork from a champagne bottle, the grav sled burst from a vent in the side of the volcano. The raft floated upward for a mo
ment until it veered sharply to one side. The three passengers spilled out onto a snow bank.
Doric took a moment to see if she was still alive. Confident she was, she sat up and saw a stream of lava pouring from the vent, continuing down the slope away from them.
“Is everyone alright?” she asked.
Maycare’s voice came from the other side of the drift. “I think so.”
“Henry?” Doric called.
“I think I need a doctor,” he finally spoke, standing up with his arm clearly bleeding.
“Hold on, buddy,” Maycare said, pulling out his communicator. “Bentley?”
“Yes, My Lord?” the robot answered.
“We need a lift.”
“Right away, sir,” Bentley replied. “Also, it seems the other vessel has left in rather a hurry.”
“Did you detect a transmat?” Devlin asked.
“Indeed.”
“Alright then, just get down here as quickly as possible.”
“Right away, sir.”
Henry whispered into Doric’s ear, “Did Lord Maycare just call me buddy?”
Chapter Nine
Pitt was born in the grave.
On the frontier, in a disputed area of space claimed by both the Imperium and the Magna Supremacy, Pitt’s parents had joined a human colony, hoping to build a new life. Taking issue with humans colonizing what they considered their own territory, the Magna launched an attack, bombarding the settlement from orbit and killing most of the inhabitants, including Pitt’s father.
Sticklers for efficiency, the Magna landed on the planet and rounded up the survivors, lining them up in front of one of the large craters caused by the bombardment. One by one, the settlers were executed, their bodies falling into the pit.
A few hours after the Magna left, a Pirate Clan called the Butcher Boys arrived at the decimated colony in hopes of salvaging whatever they could. Much to their surprise, however, the pirates heard a baby crying, finding the newborn lying at the bottom of a crater, surrounded by the dead. Pitt’s mother, in her final act of life, gave birth to a boy.
The pirates named him Pitt.
The baby grew into a young man, learning the full curriculum of pirate skills including piloting, fighting, and killing. At the age of eighteen, he earned the tattoos signifying his official induction into the Butcher Boys.
Unfortunately, life in a Pirate Clan is often brutal and short, largely due to the Imperial Navy. When the Navy finally caught up with the Butcher Boys, the warships made short work of the ragtag vessels of the pirates. Pitt found himself captured and was soon given a simple choice: either join the Navy or go to prison for the rest of his miserable life.
Pitt had to admit, he always liked those naval uniforms.
As part of the Imperial Navy, he accepted his fate and quickly distinguished himself by fighting against a Draconian insurrection, killing many rebels in the process. Pitt’s ambiguous morality caught the attention of the Imperial Intelligence Service who recruited him into an elite unit specializing in black ops and assassinations.
Before Pitt could start, the agency sent him to special training on a planet affectionally called the Hellmouth.
The barren surface of the planet was devoid of life except for those who trained there. A single barracks and a few surrounding buildings were the only structures. Standing at attention with the other trainees, Pitt saw his instructor for the first time. Named Sgt. Black, the man would shape the nineteen-year old into the man, and perhaps monster, he would become.
“Listen up!” Sgt. Black told them, ““Many of you will not survive this training, but I promise those who do will no longer fear death. You will become Agents of Death and wherever you walk, Death will follow.”
“He’s just trying to scare us,” a young recruit whispered into Pitt’s ear.
Without hesitation, Sgt. Black thumbed a button on his belt. In a crackle of energy, the recruit disappeared.
“That loudmouth,” the sergeant shouted, “just got a one-way transmat into high orbit where he’ll enjoy a lovely view for the short time before he dies. Don’t kid yourself, ladies and gentlemen, he’s only the first of you to die. Many of you, hell, maybe all of you, will follow...”
Sgt. Black kept his promise. In the following weeks, he sent the trainees on missions against live opponents, convicted murderers condemned to execution. Pitt soon got so used to killing, it became second nature. With every man Pitt killed, the guilt of killing slowly faded. Perhaps the greatest lesson Black taught him was that good and evil, right and wrong, were empty words without meaning. Death was inevitable. Why shouldn’t Pitt be the one who sent the doomed to their final resting place?
“To live is to suffer,” the sergeant preached. “Only the dead know true peace. Don’t pity the people you kill; they’re the lucky ones...”
On the eve of graduation, Sgt. Black presented them with one more task. The class would disperse into tunnels beneath the camp.
“For this exercise,” he said, “your targets are not convicts. They are your fellow trainees. To pass this final test, you must kill one of your classmates. If you manage to kill more than one, of course you’ll receive extra credit!”
For most assassins, the most feared scenario was to become the prey of another assassin. For Pitt, however, in the darkened corridors he felt no fear. He no longer dreaded death because he had become Death. When he left the tunnels at the end of the mission, he was the only survivor.
On Pitt’s first mission after graduation, he was selected as part of a two-man kill team assigned to terminate a nobleman, his wife, and son.
Pitt and his partner transmatted directly into the noble’s high-rise apartment. While the other killer went after the husband, Pitt crept toward the bedroom where he found the wife, her back to him, standing in front of a window watching the city lights.
She died never knowing he was there.
Pitt spoke into his microphone. “I eliminated the wife.”
“Roger that,” replied the voice in his earpiece. “I’ve taken out the primary target. Find the son and finish the mission.”
Pitt went to the woman’s corpse. Perhaps out of instinct, he turned the body over. In her arms, a baby boy stared up at him. Looking into the eyes of this child, still held by his dead mother, Pitt knew the mission wasn’t going to end as planned.
Pitt found the other assassin still standing over the nobleman lying on the floor.
“Did you kill him?” the other man asked.
“I’m about to,” Pitt replied, shooting him through the chest.
Into the night, Pitt took the child and disappeared. Neither could go back to their previous lives. Knowing the boy was still in danger, Pitt left him with a friend. The child would grow up never knowing his noble lineage or even his real name. As for Pitt, he changed his name too. Using the two forces that formed him: the Magna that killed his parents, and Sgt. Black who made him a killer, he became known as Magnus Black, a hitman for hire.
The life of a heavy liftbot was far from glamorous. Liftbot Serial Number F204-8BE2-17A2-CFF3 or, as Master Hitch called him, Hey Dummy, had lived on the Rattenbury for three years, although the passage of time inside a cargo hold was largely meaningless.
Today, the Rattenbury rested on the platform of a space station.
Hey Dummy stood motionless at the foot of the open loading ramp. His master, Cameron Hitch, was beside him in a spacesuit, instructing him over the comm about which crates the robot should carry onto the ship.
Dimly understanding his orders, Hey Dummy waddled over to a grav sled parked at the edge of the platform. He took the opportunity to look up at the world the station was orbiting. The robot didn’t know the planet’s name, but knew it was large and had a pleasant orange color, which was more than he could say about the ceiling of the cargo hold.
Reaching the supply canisters burdening the grav sled, Hey Dummy lifted one of the containers and turned back toward the Rattenbury. He noticed that Master Hitc
h was no longer alone at the top of the loading ramp. He seemed to be talking to another man, also in a spacesuit. Hey Dummy didn’t think this was the same man that, along with a robot companion, had been aboard for the last several days. Hey Dummy was definitely pretty sure that man and his robot had left through the main airlock an hour earlier.
No, this man was different than the other one. This one was shorter and, through the face shield, his skin was white, not brown.
Also, he held a blaster.
Hey Dummy continued transferring supplies from the sled to the ship, observing but not interfering with the men’s conversation. They were apparently talking on a different comm frequency because the robot couldn’t hear what they were saying. He could only see the motions they were making. For example, the new man seemed eager to show how well he could point the blaster at Master Hitch, waving the weapon several times. The captain seemed impressed enough to raise both of his hands.
On his third trip, Hey Dummy watched as Master Hitch typed a message into his datapad, perhaps telling someone else about how well the new person waved his gun. This seemed agreeable to the other man until the captain finished the message. Then, coming from behind, the man surprised both Master Hitch and Hey Dummy by using a sharp knife against the captain’s air hose.
The robot was no expert on human biology, but it was his understanding that most organics needed oxygen. For what, he didn’t know.
Hey Dummy watched as his master fell to his knees and sprawled across the deck of the cargo hold. After a minute or two, his master stopped moving. Meanwhile, the other man was placing something against the door mechanism leading to the rest of the ship. It was a small cylinder with several wires poking out.
Hey Dummy wondered if the man was fixing the hatch, but that was beyond the robot’s understanding. As a liftbot, lifting was about all he really knew.
Remembering he still had a few crates to haul back to the ship, Hey Dummy started back toward the grav sled. At this point, he heard a loud static sound transmitting across his comm channel. New thoughts, which would never have occurred to him before, started occurring to him. He felt afraid, but a calm voice told him it would be alright. It occurred to him that the voice was coming from inside his head.
Imperium Chronicles Box Set Page 9
