Star Guild Episodes 1 - 9 (Star Guild Saga)

by Brandon Ellis

  Admiral Byrd twirled his finger in the air. “I heard you were doing twirls and flips around hundreds of our Guard as if it was just an acrobatic game to you. Your team killed 82 fighting men. We killed 8 of your team. You've done this work before and you're trained well beyond any soldier I have ever seen. You're bigger, faster, and more skilled.”

  “We could have killed double that, Admiral, but we chose not to.”

  “I'll tell their families that. Just don't expect a thank you over the com link any time soon.”

  “We came here to kill Admiral Jenkyns.”

  Stunned, the admiral made a face, not accepting what he'd just heard. “Now, Payson, why would you want to do that?”

  Payson tried to move his arms, but instead, felt the pull of his chain. “He's a kink in our plan.”

  “A kink in your plan? Forgive me, son, if I have a hard time accepting that. Stan tried to kill me and I think he was a part of your plan.”

  “When you killed Stan, we surrendered immediately. That should be proof enough.”

  Admiral Byrd retorted “How would you know when I killed Admiral Jenkyns?” He didn't want to say his old friend's first name, it was just too painful.

  “We all felt his soul leave his body, thus we knew our mission was complete. We were to give ourselves up the moment Admiral Stan Jenkyns of Starship Taranis was dead.”

  Admiral Byrd stood up and placed his hands on the table. He leaned forward. “Nonsense.”

  “Just listen to me, Admiral. I am of the Ki-En Alliance. The other prisoners and I are human, just not exactly like you. We've been designed with fewer limitations in our DNA structure, unlike your design. You have been dumbed down. Over 96% of your DNA is considered 'junk DNA'. Not because it IS junk, but because its turned off. You and your scientists don't know what that junk is, so you label it as trash. I, on the other hand, have 22% more active DNA channels than you and the rest of your race on Starbase Matrona. In other words, my body's antenna is more tuned in to life's subtle vibrations than your body's antenna. Does that make sense, Admiral?”

  The admiral shrugged. He had no idea what Payson was trying to explain. “You are saying 'design'. What do you mean by that?”

  Payson frowned. “You don't know?”

  Admiral Byrd scratched his chin. “Know what?”

  “You've been designed by other sentient beings who are more advanced than you in technology and IQ, but not in heart.”

  “We've been designed?” He looked around the room. “By whom? I've never seen anyone other than humans walking around this starbase.”

  “They aren't on the starbase, Admiral. They remain near your starbase, monitoring everything and keeping you in line when needed. You're their slaves, without knowing it.” Payson's eyes never wavered from Admiral Byrd.

  The admiral snorted skepticism, “So how are we their slaves?”

  “Ebb.”

  “By mining ebb?”

  Payson looked away, almost seeming irritated. “You catch on quick for an admiral.”

  This was going way over Admiral Byrd's head and he felt he was being led in some way by Payson. He seemed to have a skill for manipulation, taking the admiral where he wanted, even leading him to the questions that he wanted the admiral to ask.

  The admiral had to seize control of the conversation. “You mentioned the Ki-En Alliance.”

  “That is above your ranking, sir.”

  The admiral slammed his fist on the table. “Isn't everything else you told me above my ranking? I couldn't care less if it's above or below. You answer my questions, or I'll...” Admiral Byrd sat down, a memory of his mentor, Fleet Admiral Sune, had entered his mind like a vid on an HDC screen. Admiral Byrd was in his office, frustrated over a conversation he had had with a lieutenant over something minor, but it almost came to fists. Fleet Admiral Sune had heard about it. When Sune entered his office, he sat down and gave one explanation that had stayed with Admiral Byrd ever since.“The greatest weapon against stress is the ability to remain calm, and to choose one word over another—one emotion over another. If you don't choose wisely, you lose the upper hand. The alpha in the room is always the calmest.”

  Admiral Byrd came back to the present and cleared his throat, relaxing and calmly observing Payson. “I know that I won't be able to beat answers out of you. So, what is it that you want to tell me? What is so important to say that you wanted my captain and men to leave?”

  Payson leaned forward, staring deeply into the admiral's eyes. “You will think I'm a liar, but I must tell you.” He glanced down at the desk, doing his best to choose the right words. When none arrived, he shook his head in silence, then sighed. “I'll just say it as it is, though you won't find truth in the words until it's too late. We came here to stop Admiral Jenkyns, which you did for us and we thank you. However, I am also here to expose another person whom you trust, although this person should not be trusted.”

  Admiral Byrd tilted forward. “And yet, I'm supposed to trust you?”

  “No, Admiral. You aren't supposed to trust me. You're supposed to use your most intuitive instincts for the sake of us all, and for the sake of humanity. You need to understand that you have another traitor in your midst. You've felt it, even when you had us lined up outside this door. You wondered which traitor would show next. You wondered if it was her. Am I wrong?”

  It was true, Admiral Byrd did feel that. However, in reply, the admiral looked back at Payson, unblinking. “I'm not going to keep playing your game, Payson.”

  “It's Captain Louise Stripe.” Payson lifted his hands, demonstrating that he had broken the chains binding the cuffs hanging from his wrists. Admiral Byrd leaped into a defensive stance. “Guards!”

  The door lifted open straight away and Payson didn't react when he felt hands grab his arms and yank him. They dragged him to the door, his shoes sliding across the floor.

  “Trust me, Admiral.” yelled Payson as he was pulled through the doorway. “I could have killed you at anytime, but I didn't.” Louise walked into the room as “Trust me. I'm on your side..” was echoing down the hallway.

  The admiral sighed. I've commanded the defense of Star Guild, doing my best to save every life, and was imprisoned because of it. I've escaped, killed my good friend Stan, and now I'm dealing with a possible poisoning of the biosphere. Plus, Louise is a traitor?

  “What did he say?” asked Louise, pulling Admiral Byrd out of his thoughts.

  The admiral looked at her, seeing the wonderful woman he'd known for so many years. Tell her, he thought. Tell her what Payson had said and watch Louise deny it, not because she's lying, but because she'll tell me the truth. Tell her. It's just Louise.

  He placed his hand on the table. “He told me he's part of the Ki-En Alliance. Ever heard of that?”

  Louise's eyes twitched, then her mouth tried to go into a frown, but she kept a straight face as best she could. She leaned back a bit. Not much to the naked eye, but to Admiral Byrd it meant everything. She had experienced a sudden shock, but why? To him, her response indicated the fact that Louise knew something about the alliance. He didn't have any idea how or why, but he knew from her physiology that she did. Nonetheless, she shook her head no and puffed out her lower lip, looking away. “I'm not aware of that organization, Admiral.”

  Episode 8

  The Antidote

  Devon was leaning against a tree, sitting comfortably in a clump of moss while peeling an orange, just outside of the Political Infirmary. His thoughts drifted, always ending in one, solid sentence—what did I get myself into?

  Just hours before, he'd been hiding desperately in a hospital room with Chase Byrd, Sergeant Manning and two guards. Because he and Chase had been given guns, he had assumed that men were going to burst through the door with their phasers blasting, slaughtering them all.

  Devon closed his eyes, remembering the cold feel of the heavy gun he'd held in his hands. But, no one had charged in on them; they had simply waited in silence with perspirati
on and testosterone hanging in the air. Groaning from the memory of it, he thought he'd just spent what had to have been the worst week of his life. Then he scratched his chin and watched an ant march off with a speck of orange rind that had been lying on the ground. Maybe that's what war was all about. Moving one speck of rind out of the way, then another, until one side had some left and the other didn't? He shrugged, then slipped a juicy slice of orange into his mouth, savoring the process of his tongue moving the succulent pulp around until he swallowed. Then he grimaced at his sore knee, remembering how badly it used to look. He stretched it out to test its flexibility. It was stiff, although much better than before. He said, “Almost back to normal, buddy.” But, then an ache pulsed down his shin, causing him to pull his knee toward his chest that hurt even worse, so he gave up and laid his leg back down, thinking that one final session in a Suficell Pod should bring it back to new.

  He looked around, and with nothing else to do he drew a smiley face in the dirt. That's me. He drew a rose next to the face and grinned. That's her. Then he smelled something wonderful. Was it bread? Yes, the smell of fresh bread!

  With childish delight, Devon hungrily sniffed at the air, but quickly caught himself. Real men were calm and rugged, setting aside any distractions or personal desires. They were the silent ones you never wanted to mess with. If he was going to be a tough guy, which he perceived himself to be now that he'd survived a battle, then he'd have to learn how to be one by acting like one.

  But, how can I smell bread from the agricultural sector from here? It had to be close by, so he scanned the area until he saw two men carrying loaves of the fragrant substance. He was just about to stand up to go ask them for a sample when he heard his name being called.

  Devon!

  “Huh?”

  Devon!

  “Yeah?” He looked around the tree trunk he'd been leaning against without seeing anyone, so he asked, “Who said that?” He looked to his left and right, but could only see several guardsmen standing at their posts, protecting their position on this side of the infirmary. Then another loaf carrying guard walked by, so Devon hailed to him by calling, “Hey, you.”

  The guard stopped and said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you hear someone call my name?”

  “I don't know your name, sir.”

  “Devon.”

  The man shook his head. “No. Sorry, Devon.”

  Then Devon swept the air with a wave of his hand. “Move along, soldier.”

  The guard responded with an odd look on his face and Devon was relieved when the guard continued on his way toward the infirmary.

  Devon!

  “What?!”

  In response, all of the nearby guards turned around to see what he wanted. He waved them off as if to say he didn't need them at the moment. They all gave a nod and faced back around, but one didn't. It was Sergeant Manning, who said something into his wrist band as he strolled over to him.

  “May I take a seat, Devon?”

  “Yes...sure.”

  Manning sat next to him and patted the sore leg as Devon bit his lip. The pat had jostled his knee. He wanted to grunt because of the pain, but didn't.

  “The papers you had in your hand when we found you the other day? Why were they so important?” asked Manning.

  Devon's eyebrow raised in surprise. “You don't know?”

  Manning patted Devon's leg even harder. “That's why I'm asking.”

  Devon grimaced.

  “Are you okay?” asked Manning.

  “Yeah, why?” Devon looked away to hide his tears of pain. Perhaps his knee wasn't as good as he'd thought.

  “Oh,” replied Manning, “your leg. Does it still hurt? I saw you walk over here, so I just assumed it was better.”

  “Yes, it's fine,” said Devon.

  Manning easily saw through the lie, then crossed his arms. “I see.” He smiled and said, “So, you're a tough guy now.” Then he pointed at his fellow Guardsmen. “Is that why I saw you ordering my men around?” He winked, leaned over and whispered into Devon's ear, “Right now, my friends over there think it's funny, but if you keep trying to boss them around like you've been doing, the comic relief isn't going to last much longer—catch my drift?” Manning pulled away from Devon, looking amused and meaning no harm. “Being a man doesn't mean you have to be rude or act tough. You just handle whatever business you're assigned, respect the work and the people around you, and always give one hundred percent of yourself. If you can do all of that, then you can call yourself a real man.”

  Devon's face softened. “Yes, of course.”

  “We all thought you were a tough guy when you did what you needed to do by leaping out of that building and making it to the forest alive. You didn't need to prove anything to us once we saw that.”

  Understanding Manning's point, Devon nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Good. Now, about those papers?”

  “Um...well...how do I say this...” Devon looked at the partially eaten orange in his hand as if it was going to somehow advise him. “Those papers are the reason I jumped out of the building. I had hacked into Prime Director Zim Nocki's HDC through the dado-center. Then I translated and transcribed what I thought was junk data going across the HDC waves, and during the process I found something called “The Kill Off”. After I decoded the message with Program Distinguish, Savanna and I read—”

  “Okay, okay. That made very little sense to me,” interrupted Manning. “All I want to know is—what did it say?”

  “That batrachotoxin would be released into our air and water supply within two weeks time, but that message was sent out about four days before we found it, so, when counting...” he paused, counting on fingers sticky with orange juice, “we have five days before they release batrachotoxin into the population.”

  “What is it?”

  “Poison.”

  Manning lurched backwards, striking his head against the tree. He raised his hand to the back of his head as he blurted, “You've got to be screwing with me!”

  “I wish.”

  Manning ground the heel of his boot into grassy moss as he said, “Well, why not? I guess that'd be as good a way as any to get us all dead.” While grinding his teeth, his pistol hand unconsciously moved to his holster as he gruffly muttered under his breath, “What I'd do to have Zim alone in a room...and I wouldn't romance the fella.”

  Devon grinned, but then the thought of being caught in the same room with Zim made him cringe—the guy was huge. He changed the subject by saying, “I can't figure out an antidote or a plan, other than getting everyone off the Starbase...somehow. It's a deadly toxin and I don't know where to start looking for a cure, or if one even exists.”

  “We won't die like this, Devon. We'll survive. You'll find an antidote.”

  How? Devon wanted to ask, but instead said, “They've done this before, Manning.”

  “Poisoned us?”

  “No,” Devon replied, “not that I know of, but according to the document, this isn't the first time they've killed humans en masse.”

  “Like, in the past?” Manning shook his head. “I don't remember reading anything about that at the academy.”

  “I have the antidote.”

  “You have what?” asked Devon, staring at Manning intently, trying to determine how his voice could have changed from male to female, until he realized that it wasn't Manning's voice that he'd just heard.

  Manning stared at Devon rubbing his temple as he asked, “Are you okay? I didn't say anything.”

  Thinking he must have just imagined a voice in his head, or that a snatch of conversation had carried on the breeze, Devon replied, “I'm okay.” Then he touched his finger to the dirt again, adding some finishing touches to the rose he'd drawn earlier.

  “Ah...you a fan of Robert Rose?” Manning asked.

  Devon shrugged. “I guess.”

  Manning tilted his head to better see the smiling face and rose drawn in the dirt. “Wow, Devon, that's good.
That's really good. It looks just like his signature.”

  Devon chuckled and said, “Thanks.”

  “You know, before we were attacked, I was going to meet him.”

  Devon gave Manning a look, almost frowning when he did so. “I...doubt that.”

  “Well, that's what Star Guild told us. We were supposed to meet 'n greet with him.”

  Devon laughed, “No, you weren't. He...,” but he stopped mid-sentence. He was talking to a superior officer, so he re-phrased by saying, “I don't mean to say you're a liar, but Star Guild must have been pulling your leg, because Robert Rose won't meet with anyone and no one knows his true identity.”

  Manning patted Devon's shoulder. “No worries, Devon. Star Guild told us that and you're right—I bet he wouldn't have shown up anyway. He isn't good at appearing when he says he will because he's a flake, if you ask me, a talented flake.”

  “He won't show up because he never said he'd show up. People make up all of all sorts of things about him that aren't true. He never has—and will never—show himself.”

  “And you know this...how?”

  Devon gave another shrug. “I don't know. I'm good at patterns and I think people use him as a means to gain exposure and to promote things, you know, a way to—”

  “Please escort me to Admiral Byrd,” said a female voice.

  “Where?” Devon pushed himself up to hop on his good leg as he looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice.

  “What?” asked Manning, wondering why Devon was asking him that.

  “Biosphere, Door One, and bring some Brigantia Guards with you.”

  Wide eyed, Devon almost tipped over while hopping, but instead grabbed at Manning's shirt for balance as he shouted, “I know who it is!”

  “Who is it?!” Manning clutched Devon by the shoulders. “You're freaking out, man...calm down!”

  Devon frantically shook his head, then pointed at his forehead. “No – you don't understand...her voice is in my head! A woman I know can do things like that—and she has the antidote! We have to get to her and we need some guards to come with us! Trust me!”