Protector

by Luke Norris

  This was why he’d been more successful than his father. Sure, he preferred the old days too. Taking care of business yourself was, well, fun. But that was not scalable if you wanted to be successful. His father had not been clever enough to see this.

  Arif leaped into the wasp with the grace of a trained athlete despite his stocky build and instantly fired up the four turbines. The guards would keep Oliver occupied long enough. Those fools didn’t have a chance though.

  As much as Arif liked a challenge, he knew that he was no match for that man back there. Astounding. Sweet Verity, it was real! The stories they had told him really were true. Had he not seen Oliver with his own eyes he would not have truly believed it.

  Targon had believed it, and that counted for a lot. Arif had read all of Targon’s papers, and there was no denying the veracity of the old man’s body of work. Targon had produced papers on the legends of Oliver and Verity, which Arif had scoured.

  Something else had piqued Arif’s interest around the topic, a theme lesser known or studied, the prophets. These were characters largely overlooked in the annals of history. Yet, they were coexistent with Oliver and are reported to have been involved in the unity war. Legends attributed great powers to both Oliver and Verity, but Arif had come to believe that there were more of these people. Others. Brief mentions in the play ‘forbidden love’ bolstered this theory, though they were often omitted from live interpretations. They were also mentioned in one or two dubious passages in various poems. Were Oliver and Verity actually part of a group, and there had been infighting? That somehow made more sense.

  The military innovations of the ancient lowlanders had fascinated Arif since childhood and captured his imagination. He had become intrigued with the history of Arakan especially before Skalet invaded in the first epoch. The whole age was shrouded in mysticism, supernatural leaders, powerful characters.

  If Arif had not been such a devotee to that period of Arakian history, then the things these strange foreigners were saying, promises they made, would have seemed absurd. Come on! Living forever? The peculiar people had approached him espousing outrageous claims. But after hearing Targon’s account of King Oliver, and then seeing him in the flesh in all his glory, he was convinced.

  Arif commanded his environment. He instilled fear in those around him. Even before his father had bequeathed the rightful mantle of Zewka leadership to him, and he’d come into the seat of power, he’d developed an aptitude, or talent, for exerting psychological pressure on others. People had their natural endowments, and Arif was always destined to control an empire.

  Despite this, when the foreigners had first reached out to him, he had felt deeply unsettled. That someone else could put Arif Zewka at unease in itself was unsettling. He knew a thing or two about wearing a facade to downplay your power, and these visitors oozed raw confidence and superiority. It dripped off them. Arif was good at reading people, and he swore he even felt a certain repulsion emanating from them as if he was gutter scum. Nevermind, if they could offer him what they were promising...

  They had first come to the Zewka headquarters more than a year ago, to meet him personally. The ‘wasp’ they arrived in if you could even call it that, was technology, unlike anything he’d seen. It was generally accepted that Arakan was the most advanced continent on Laitam. But their aircraft had looked like, what Arif could only describe as, an alien flying machine.

  They had requested unusual things of him. ‘Collect modern music, art, and store them in safe houses’. Then there were even more arbitrary things they wanted like furniture and not beautiful antique furniture, just boring modern standard pieces of no great value. Arif assumed they were doing the same across the rest of Arakan, but he couldn’t be sure.

  The visitors were very vague about where they were from, saying simply ‘not here’, or ‘foreign’. The innate confidence they exuded strutting around the grounds, and through his house, made him weary. They’d given his elite guards less mind than the floor they walked on.

  After seeing Oliver single-handedly dismantle his entire soldier unit, with medieval weapons, he could understand why. Oliver was one of them! That was the only explanation. It had been beautiful to watch, seeing those old weapons in the hands of a master. Arif lusted after this ability, no amount of his training sessions would see him attain that level. Now he had the chance. The visitors had offered him the opportunity.

  He felt an uneasiness in his gut as he resolved to go to them now.

  What was a concern now though was, Oliver saw him as an enemy, and Oliver was one of them. Would this jeopardize his chances with these people? Would they deny him the things they’d promised? He had to make sure that if they didn’t already know about Oliver, he’d keep it secret. You didn’t make demands of these sorts of people. As he normally would, with virtually anybody else.

  They didn’t seem motivated, or even slightly interested, in money. Which placed them outside of his comfort zone. What did they want?

  Arif flew low over the river, and then away to the south. He would make the journey alone. He smiled. Something felt good about being on his own again. No entourage. The loss of the headquarters seemed trivial in the face of the visitor's gift.

  Over the hours, the apprehension in his stomach grew. He hadn’t been at the whim of another in so long, he forgot what it felt like. But now he desired this thing so deeply. Oliver was incredible, beautiful, Arif had to become like him. Yes, he would see this through!

  He pulled out the small device they’d given him. He had avoided using this until now. It was a small metallic ball, surprisingly light. He held it in the palm of his hand and spoke his name and an unusual word as instructed “Arif Zewka. Atasalan!”

  He almost lost control of the wasp when a large three-dimensional face sprang up out of the tiny device. It was a translucent hologram made from projected light. Nevertheless, the visitor's face was in high fidelity and looked at him curiously, clearly able to see him. Ponsy’s hammer! What mystical magic was this?

  “Arif Zewka,” the woman said calmly, then added in clunky Naharainee, “You’ve made a decision?”

  One year ago, when the visitors had first contacted him, both the men and the women had their heads completely shaven. So odd. But now a year later the woman’s hair had grown out to a boyish length.

  “I will accept your offer,” Arif said.

  “Why have you come to this decision now?” she asked. “Has something changed? We haven’t heard from you in some time.”

  “Nothing’s changed,” Arif said irritated. “And you’d do best not to question my schedule!”

  She smiled and seemed amused by this. “Follow the directions on the map to our location!” Her face disappeared.

  In its place, a map of the terrain appeared in astounding photographic detail. Unbelievable! He could see his wasp, like a tiny model moving across the holographic landscape. How was this possible? The map zoomed out so he could see the meandering Tashka river, and the Naharain capital. He could even see tiny vehicles moving. There, to the left of the city, was a warehouse flashing in red, indicating their location.

  Arif felt like he’d stepped into a dream. A dream where his authority and domineering personality had no influence. The technology he was experiencing was otherworldly. For the first time in as long as he could remember he felt an unfamiliar sensation crowd his sensibilities. Fear. Had his life become so anodyne, was he so unassailable that he’d forgotten fear? The unknown stared him in the face, yet something about this peculiar sensation excited him, made him feel young.

  He flew higher and left the course of the Tashka, to cut across the lightly populated Naharainee forest towards the flashing icon. The small image of his wasp responded in real-time mimicking the exact movements he made. It was as if he were looking down on himself like some celestial being.

  “Arif Zewka,” the woman greeted him without turning from the cabinet she was examining. “Tell me about this piece!”

  It w
as a plain, mass produced cabinet, stacked in an enormous warehouse with countless other cheap furniture items and modern art. She seemed intrigued by the bulbous patterns in the wood grain of the Redtash. She ran her hand over the pattern. Strange. Every bit of cheap junk was made from that timber.

  “Just a cheap cabinet,” Arif replied. “If you are looking for items of value, I have stores of real art. Historical pieces. I can’t understand your obsession with these worthless items.”

  The woman turned to face Arif. She was taller than him, and carried herself easily, almost an offensive level of confidence. She would learn to respect him. But as she stepped toward him with her penetrating blue eyes, he felt himself instinctively step back.

  “You say you’ve collected historical pieces?” she asked. “What does ‘historical’ mean to you, Arif? Two hundred years old? All these things you see here, to us, are history. Or will be. By the time these items filter through the right channels and get to market, they will be historical, let me assure you!

  “Nevertheless, I will look at the pieces you are suggesting,” she decided. “We have different criteria for assessing resale value. It’s something above you, don’t concern yourself about it.”

  “Above me?” he stepped closer. “You have the arrogance to say what is above Arif Zewka?”

  She examined his face as if he were a colorful insect, curious and amusing.

  “Don’t antagonize the first-stager, Li!” the man called Seth, joined them. He had also grown out his hair since their first encounter a year ago. In contrast to Li his skin was bone white, but it was a different shade to the people from the Ren subcontinent. More pale, almost translucent looking. His cheeks were gaunt and drawn. His eyes were cold and expressionless. He wore the white Shar robes with blue sash.

  “Keep your woman in check, Seth!” Arif told him. “Don’t forget who I am.”

  Seth looked genuinely taken aback for a moment. “My woman?” he said. “Li is my captain. You’re on your own, Barron.”

  She was his captain? Arif had the feeling he had just made a major blunder. He looked back into the blue eyes of captain Li. She looked amused—her expression said, a monkey shouldn’t be faulted for its lack of intelligence. Ponsy’s hammer! Something stayed him from using physical force against her. Something told him that would be a very bad idea. Yes, she was waiting, to see if he would lash out. He had flashbacks of Oliver, dismantling armed soldiers as easily as a Nahar viper dispatched mice. A very bad idea indeed.

  “Tell us, Arif,” Li asked unperturbed. “What made you come to us now? What changed recently?” Her Naharainee accent had improved in the year, but it was still gauche and halting, as though she were being dictated to.

  Arif could feel Seth scrutinizing him, waiting to see how he would answer. This was important to them. Why? He had to be careful here, he wanted what they were offering. Don’t fumble. He had to select his words carefully.

  “I have been meaning to make contact earlier, but business opportunities have taken precedence. Our mining operations hit a new ore vein, and an important archeological site that was discovered.” It was a half-truth, he had learned how to blend truth with his lies over the years so that even he believed them. An outright lie would be detected by these people.

  “Have others like us reached out to you also?”

  “Like you?” Arif asked feigning ignorance. He felt as though they could sense the sweat on his palms and his accelerated heart rate.

  “Collectors,” Li replied, “foreigners with technology similar to ours, looking to collect cultural items.”

  “Nobody of that description has reached out to me.” Did they not know about Oliver? Perhaps he wasn’t part of their group. That was good.

  “There’s something you’re not telling us,” Seth said. “You weren’t lying, but I’m detecting levels that indicate you are concealing information from us.”

  Sweet Verity! When was he last on the wrong side of an interrogation? He was trying to navigate a sea of uncertainty. These emotions excited him. He was a pioneer, a conqueror in his soul. His old life could not offer him this, whatever this might be.

  “There’s been no visitors like yourselves,” Arif said. “There are many things I’m not telling you. You don’t need to know all the mechanics of my business.”

  They were silent for a moment. “I think you’re telling the truth on this one point,” Li said. “But other collectors will be here soon if they are not already. Laitam has been singing for quite some time,” then added, “we haven’t detected anyone in orbit, or seen the signs on Arakan.”

  Orbit? What was that meant to mean? Orbit around what? They were talking gibberish, Laitam singing. How can a planet sing? Sounded like they did know about Oliver, or suspected at least. Or maybe Oliver was part of a different group as she suggested.

  “They’ll be cloaked if they are in orbit,” Seth said, “and around any one of the moons. But you’re right, there has been no planetside activity. Do you think we should set things in motion preemptively?”

  Around the moons? Arif thought, this is crazy talk, but they are dead serious, as sure as the mountain’s shadow.

  “May be premature,” Li said. “We should have the strategic centers ready, and drivers ready for deployment.” She turned back to Arif. “We have analyzed your temperament and physical traits. You have the perfect predisposition to be a driver. You have already demonstrated a natural affinity for leadership and aptitude to tactics to a very high level with your empire here in Naharain. You will be a formidable driver.”

  “A driver?” Arif asked confused. “Is this the gift I was offered, living forever? That’s what you call it?” He pictured Oliver moving quicker than the eye. “Weapon mastery. Extra speed and all that,” he added.

  “What did you say?” Li demanded, suddenly both her and Seth were tense. “Why did you say extra speed?”

  He’d let it slip. Sweet Verity, did they know? “Whatever you described,” Arif said innocently. “Didn’t you say I’d have enhanced skills?”

  Seth scrutinized him with cold eyes. It felt as though they saw straight through his words to his core. He jumped when a small device, not bigger than his hand, hovered from the corner of the room where several others were and flew through the air to stop in front of him.

  “Ponsy’s hammer!” Arif exclaimed. “How are you doing that?”

  Li seemed not to notice it, and held Arifs gaze dispassionately, as the device made a complete three-sixty around him.

  “I am re-checking your physical condition for driver suitability,” Seth said. “To make sure there are no compromising diseases or deficiencies.”

  “Ah ha,” Arif watched suspiciously, as the device scanned his body. “I’m in peak physical condition, I can assure you,” he insisted.

  “His temperament and natural testosterone levels are good,” Seth told Li, “he has a couple of health issues.”

  “Hey, I have no health issues…” they were ignoring him.

  “Are they deal breakers?” Li asked calmly.

  “A local virus that will manifest later in life,” Seth paused as if looking at information from an invisible source, “and a few small benign Gastrointestinal growths. These are very common among first-stagers and often go undetected. I’ve seen similar tumors in many candidates. Nothing the procedure won’t eradicate. Also, low-grade nanites should keep the virus at bay for...” he winked at Li, “most of his life.”

  “Very well,” Li laughed, turning back to Arif.

  Why was that funny? Arif wondered. They’re saying the medicine will keep me healthy my whole life. Damn these visitors and their secrets. Enough of this, she doesn’t sufficiently respect the head of the zewka.

  He stepped into her personal space, so she could feel his breath against her cheek and placed his hand on her throat. “I told you, woman!” Arif said. “I am in impeccable condition. I don’t have viruses or some growth.” From the corner of his eye he saw the small floating dev
ice had moved closer and hover half a meter from to his head, and why did Seth not seem the slightest bit concerned about this captain being in the grasp of a dangerous man?

  A sadistic smile formed on Li’s lips. And she gently moved his hand away. “Wow, I guess you’re right. It looks like you’re good to go, Arif,” she said. “Follow Seth, he’ll take you to the landing craft.” She cocked her head eyeing him, but spoke to Seth. “Make sure he receives the correct dose of paralysis agents for the operation, but I want you to leave out the sedation drugs and analgesics.”

  “Li!” Seth exclaimed. “It’s not worth the risk, for your little bit of enjoyment we’ll lose a potential driver. Last time you didn’t administer pain relief the subject went crazy.”

  “It’s not for my enjoyment. I have things to do here planetside. But Arif here seems convinced that he is strong enough. “You’re strong enough right?” she let the question hang.

  He was being baited, but he wanted this. Did he have a choice? He shrunk away from Li slightly. “I told you, I’m strong enough.”

  “See!” Li confirmed. “Make sure he only gets the paralysis drugs during the physical upgrades, right until the end when psycho imbuement begins.”

  Seth looked annoyed. “If you lose another one because of your games Li,” he said, “then you can be responsible for the driver restocking, captain or not.” He pointed at Arif. “You! Follow me.”

  Arif noticed that Li was still smiling as she watched him go.

  They walked out of the warehouse, past his wasp parked outside, towards the river bank. Seth strode straight to the water. As Arif gazed across the swirling surface of the Tashka, the scene before him glimmered. The water distorted like a desert mirage. “Seth, did you see that…”