by T. R. Harris
95
The large moon with the underground prison was indeed within the same star system as the planet Navior, where the main base of the Gradis Cartel was located. As a consequence, it took only forty minutes before the crime boss was landing on a private pad to the rear of his pyramid-shaped headquarters after escaping from the rampaging mutants.
During the brief journey he’d already set emergency procedures in motion. Databanks were being transferred to backup servers on distant planets, and hardcopy records were being incinerated. As a criminal organization, the Cartel was quite familiar with how easy it was to infiltrate security and data records. Therefore, their systems were some of the most secure in the galaxy, with protocols designed to thwart any determined effort to learn the secrets of the Gradis.
As he rushed into the building—and through hordes of frenetic workers preparing for the inevitable evacuation—Frandon understood this situation was different. This wasn’t a government or military assault on his organization, one bent on acquiring evidence against the Cartel. This was mutants out for revenge. They didn’t care about locating and preserving evidence. All they wanted was their ounce of blood—his blood—for what he had done.
Yet Frandon was still out to preserve his galaxy-wide organization, while also retaining his seat at the top.
“There are two bandor-fangs at the Vansis animal exhibit,” he barked out to one of his entourage. “Have them brought to the grounds and prepared for release.” The huge beasts were formidable, yet he held no confidence they could stop the mutants. But maybe they could slow them down.
“And arm as many of the guards with ballistic weapons as we have.” He had witnessed how Panur and Lila reacted to flash weapons. He didn’t know if metal slugs would make a difference, but he already knew plasma bolts only made them stronger.
“And clear all the crews from the ships in the spaceport and bring them here,” he further ordered. “Surround the building.” He had upwards of ten thousand Cartel members on the grounds at any given time. It was an incredible amount of fodder to throw at the mutants. All he needed was a little time, just enough to gather his emergency kit and then he’d be gone, slipping away in the confusion of the impending attack.
He entered the central elevator and rode the car to the hundredth floor, the very pinnacle of the building. He rushed into his private quarters, pointing to objects which his trailing assistants snatched up. Then he entered the vault. Forty-two million Juirean credits in negotiable chips were placed into six containers.
“Put everything in the pod. I will be along shortly.”
“Frandon!” one of his crew cried out. “A vessel approaches. It is the glowing ship of the mutants.”
Frandon rushed to the wide balcony encircling the top dome of the pyramid. A white streak zipped across the sky and settled onto an area of grass about two hundred yards from the front entrance. Frandon’s race have excellent eyesight, so he was able to see as the glowing egg-shaped craft split open and a figure emerged. But only one. It was Lila Bol.
Frandon realized immediately what was happening. Panur had gone with the others to Olypon, while Lila—the daughter of Arieel Bol and Adam Cain—had come alone, seeking retribution for his afront against her parents. He didn’t feel any relief in knowing only one mutant was here. But what he did know: If any of his precautions allowed for the momentary capture of the mutant, he would not hesitate this time. He would cast her first into the cold of space, and then later into the nuclear fires of the Naviorian star. He had learned his lesson regarding the folly of containing the mutants. He hoped he would live long enough to reflect on his lesson.
Before leaving the prison moon, Lila had borrowed an outfit from Sherri for modesty. During battle she always ended up naked, either from having her clothes burned off as her body absorbed energy from flash weapons, or from having it shredded by ballistics. What she wore now was a simple white blouse and jeans. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be anything to return to Sherri afterwards.
There were mobs of Cartel soldiers between her and the expansive entrance to the building. More defenders were arriving on her left, carried from the spaceport in huge trucks. Without awaiting orders, those at the front of the building opened fire on the solitary figure slowly walking toward them.
Lila was only moderately surprised when she was hit with hundreds of bullets, rather than flash bolts. They tore into her clothing, and as predicted, a moment later she was naked.
Although a mutant, Lila was still half Formilian and half Human, and consisted of flesh and blood. What made her unique was her cell’s ability to spontaneously regenerate. They also retained a genetic memory of all she knew, as well as an individual blueprint of her body down to the atomic level.
So, the bullets didn’t ricochet off her body. Instead, they entered her flesh, yet were immediately cast out as damaged cells were instantly replaced. She was being hit with so many rounds that her skin lost any definition, appearing to vibrate instead. A veil of shiny object surrounded her as well, created by the thousands of metal slugs falling from her body.
A moment later, she began to take on a few flash bolts, fired mainly from the soldiers arriving from the spaceport and not carrying ballistic weapons as a rule. This was a different sensation for the mutant. Unlike the bullets, she drew the white-hot energy into her body and kept it there, feeling a surge of power and wellbeing. She welcomed this raw energy, and now weapons intended to kill her were feeding her strength and endurance.
Lila also had the ability to collect and use concentrated static electricity in the atmosphere, using it as conduits for her other mutant talents. Now she channeled some of the intense heat accumulated within her body down her arms and along these ribbons of electricity. The strings reached out a hundred feet or more from her fingertips, white hot with two-thousand-degree temperatures.
Lila whipped the ribbons around, leaving glowing swirls of ionized atmosphere. She sent them into the cluster of soldiers to her left, those from the spaceport. Hundreds were simply sliced in half, along with their transports and nearby trees and other structures. Then she brought the ribbons to bear on the troops outside the building entrance. Hundreds died here, before the gunfire came to a stop and panic set in.
Then something odd happened.
Lila found herself hoisted into the air on a thick, off-white spike of ivory protruding from her chest. It tapered to a sharp point about ten feet away. She was impelled on the tip of a long horn, one of two projecting from the snout of a hairy beast.
Another huge animal moved into Lila’s line of sight, jostling with the other for possession of the tiny scrap of food the first one had stabbed. Lila’s beast spun away, attempting to keep the prize for itself. The second, thirty-foot tall animal growled and slammed a huge head into the side of the other.
Lila wasn’t hurt. Instinctively, her body had created another set of organs away from the damaged area and then formed an outer coating of skin around the wound. Then Lila willed the opening to expand, loosening the horn’s hold on her body.
She slid off, only to land on the long snout of the other animal.
Using incredibly quick micro adjustments to her balance, Lila stood solid on the nose, failing to be thrown off as the huge head swung from side to side. It was if she was glued to the beast. She then reeled back her right arm—and concentrating a glowing ball of hot energy on her fist—slammed her hand into a man-size yellow eye.
The creature howled out in pain, rearing back on its haunches before surging forward and burying its face into the shattered concrete of the area outside the headquarters.
When it lifted its mighty head again, Lila allowed the momentum to carry her upward, where she jumped, performing a leisurely back flip in the air. She straightened out and placed her arms out in front of her, aiming down, diving for the exposed head of the first beast. She energized her fists with white-hot heat again, moments before burning through the thick skin and bone of the beast’s skull.
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br /> She sank deep into the body, disappearing from view while dropping through brain, sinew and guts. The creature toppled over dead before she reached the bottom. Lila pressed forward with her glowing hands, pulling away scorched flesh before ripping open a section of skin and emerging back into the light of Navior.
The other beast was still reeling from the pain in its blind eye. Lila called up another long ribbon of charged static electricity and whipped a line across the neck of the animal. The intense heat sliced cleanly through the flesh, separating the head from the body.
Upset at the delay caused by the attack from the animals, Lila made for the entrance to Frandon’s headquarters. Defenders remained, most engrossed in the battle between the mutant and the two huge beasts. When the contest came to an abrupt end in Lila’s favor, many lost the will to fight and turned to run. Lila continued to whip the cords of white-hot heat at them, killing dozens more before they could get out of range.
Then Lila cancelled the heat and sent a thick wall of concentrated air at the glass entrance doors. The front of the building blew inward, sending a shock wave of air and shattered glass into the vast foyer. More defenders died before Lila stepped across the threshold.
Now she used thick blocks of compressed air to send people and furniture crashing into the interior walls. The building was made of a hundred or more polyurethane balls, all stacked on top of each other. The first floor contained the most balls, with each successive floor having less, until only one ball made up the top of the pyramidal structure. Although the foam had hardened to an incredibly tough material, each ball was lightweight on its own. To counter this, a thick cable ran from the top of the structure, through its center and anchored into the foundation. Five other cables tied into the lower sides, with various other supports linking the cables together.
Lila could see one of the side cables exposed through a shattered section of the first floor. She moved to it. Drawing in as much energy into her body as she could, she wrapped her arms around the cable. A few of the more intrepid defenders took this opportunity to lay more flash bolts into her, which only helped. A moment later, the cable was red-hot.
Lila stepped back and wrapped a ribbon of glowing static electricity around the cable. When she pulled, it snapped.
Losing integrity in the upper floors, dozens of huge balls crashed through one another, ending in a smoky pile of rubble where Lila had once stood. There was relative quiet in the building. The gunfire had stopped, and only the sound of falling debris could be heard. Then came a crack, followed by more tumbling debris. Lila lifted herself through a hole in the top bubble, her body still glowing white hot.
The brave defenders who had begun to move cautiously toward the pile now turned and fled. It seemed nothing could kill the glowing mutant. It was time to leave.
Lila climbed over until she was at the central cable for the hundred-story building, the one reaching all the way to the top. She repeated what she had done with the first cable, yet when this one snapped, two-thirds of the building either fell inward or rolled away, some even carried along with the wind to the open fields to the north.
This time, it took a while for Lila to make her way to the top of the rubble pile, yet when she did she stood tall and looked out on the shattered remains of the Gradis Cartel’s main building. It was nearing dusk, and dozens of starships in the spaceport were lifting off and bolting for space, their hulls catching the last glistening light of day.
Lila began to speak, using the vibrating static electricity she could control to project her clear voice out ten miles or more around the building.
“I am Lila Bol,” her words rang out over the land. “I have just destroyed the Gradis Cartel. You may say this is only one building, that the Gradis is much larger than a single structure. But I meant what I said. The Gradis is no more, no matter where it is located. The destruction of this building was only a symbol. Anyone choosing to remain affiliated with the Gradis will be hunted down and killed. You may laugh and say it is a large galaxy, how can she possibly backup her words. It is because I am immortal. There is no deadline to my vengeance. Even if it takes generations, I will hunt you down and all your descendants. You know I can. You know I will. But all you need do is disavow your loyalty to the Cartel and you shall live. And as for Frandon G’Bur, the despicable creature who brought this upon you, I sense he has survived. Now I demand his death. I will not pay you for this deed. There will be no reward. You will do this because I command it. Bring his body to me here. You have one hour.”
The broadcast was recorded and transmitted to Frandon’s ship, which was bolting for the outer reaches of the Naviorian system. Frandon nervously looked around the bridge. These were his closest allies, his lieutenants who occupied the highest levels within the Gradis Cartel. They owed everything to the organization…and to Frandon.
All eyes were upon him.
“I have forty-eight million credits with me. They are yours. And when we get to D’lo, there is another five hundred million.” His voice trembled, both from fear and anger. “Do not believe the rantings of the mutant. She is but one being. We are the Gradis Cartel! We are the largest, most powerful organization of our kind in the galaxy. We need not fear Lila Bol.”
Zam Cass, the second-in-command of the Cartel, stared unblinking at Frandon. “You are right; once we were the largest, the most-powerful,” he said. “Yet because of you….” He glanced to the others on the bridge. “Preserve the body. We will need it to show the mutant.”
96
Stellar nebulae are beautiful to behold yet dangerous to traverse, and the Juddle Nebula offered both traits in spades. It was a large conglomeration of gas and debris, the remnants of hundreds of huge stars that had lived and then died in massive explosions. Now the remains were in the process of reforming, becoming a stellar incubator for new suns and new worlds. But in its present state, it was one of the most hostile environments in the entire galaxy.
The Davion arrived at the planet Tel’oran and set about making arrangements for an excursion into the core of the nebula. Ships couldn’t freely enter the maelstrom; it required skilled guides, often at the head of long caravans of starships, hopping between the few habitable planets of the Juddle, and mainly aligned along the outer rim.
What set the nebula apart from so many others was the existence of a huge void area within its thickest region. This was the Dysion Void, and it was rarely visited before even the most-intrepid explorers decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Yet it was this isolation that made the Void the perfect location for a hidden Klin base to flourish. Not only that, but the silver-skinned aliens had found the perfect partner for their conquest of the galaxy. They were the leather skinned Kracori, inhabitants of the planet Elision, a world existing deep within the Void. Elision was a heavy-gravity world, similar to Earth, and the Kracori had many of the traits of the Humans. Yet unlike the independent-minded creatures from Earth, the Kracori were more unified and regimented. When the Klin offered to share rule of the galaxy with them, they jumped at the chance. Over the centuries of the Klin-Kracori alliance, the natives bought into the idea even more, making it their singular racial identity. However, the Kracori were not as patient as the Klin, and after eight hundred years of waiting, they were on the verge of revolt when the Human-Juirean War finally began, setting the Klin plan in motion.
Unfortunately—for the Kracori anyway—they never fulfilled their dream of galactic domination, even after betraying the Klin. Instead, they became pariahs, scorned, shamed and hunted like animals. Only the unknown location of their homeworld saved them.
That was until Riyad Tarazi tracked them down.
But that was history now. The current news dealt with Elision’s sister world; a planet called Olypon. It was from here the Klin maintained a major presence while cultivating the Kracori warriors on the neighboring world. It had a gravity the Klin could tolerate, a compliant indigenous species and was only eight million miles from Elision. Since the Olypon of
the time hadn’t participated in any of the shenanigans of the Kracori or the Klin, they were mostly forgotten after the Battle of the Dysion Void, although for a brief period after the battle, the Void did become the center of the universe, if only as a curiosity. Routes were opened to the Void and tourists traveled there to gawk at the area where the last major battle between the Juireans, Humans, Klin and Kracori had taken place. But the fame was fleeting. Now Olypon was more destitute and isolated than ever. Adam was hoping there would still be a few guides around who would take them in. The race that resided within the Void wasn’t dangerous—they never had been. But the road getting there was a bitch.
Surprisingly, it only took a couple of inquiries to find several natives willing to make the journey. The Juddle was suffering, and any credits the Tel’orans could earn were welcomed. So, after stocking up on a few supplies, the Davion set off into the nebula, following a small guide ship leading the way.
Lila had left Navior and was on her way to rendezvous with the team, having settled the Cartel problem, hopefully once and for all.
Panur assured Arieel that her daughter could safely find them, even in the turmoil of the Juddle Nebula. His egg-shaped starship didn’t travel by conventional means. Instead it jumped between dimensions and simply appeared at spots. She could track the Davion and would meet up with the team before they reached Olypon.
Adam, Riyad and Copernicus traded off piloting duties, which required relief every two hours thanks to the intense concentration needed during the journey. The path was indeed harrowing. But the guides were good, if a little rusty. Things change quickly in a nebula such as the Juddle, and charts from even a year ago were dangerously out of date. But the guides knew these waters and understood the subtleties of the stellar tides. After only a few dead ends and backtracks, the Davion arrived at the only opening into the Void, the Volseen Corridor.