The Forsaken Empire (The Endervar War Book 2)

by Michael Kan

  Ensign Justice shook her head and shrugged. Maybe, but I don’t think she’s human.

  Arendi looked again at the image and noted the apparent lack of a face. There were eyes, but no mouth or nose. It was a simply a flat surface a mask of flesh. Even her skin was different. It glowed, giving off a strange, almost iridescent glint. The whites were imbued with hints of violet, blue, and glassy ash.

  I’ve been running the image through the Alliance databases, trying to find a match, the ensign went on. So far, nothing. Not even which race she belongs to.

  More of the unknown Arendi replied. But I doubt that she’s alone.

  As Arendi continued to gaze at the image, she noted another striking thing. Next to the face was a larger figure another apparition presumably plowing a path through the base. The figure was probably three meters or more in height, and moving fast. The giant body was blasting through solid wall. The footage continued. The cloaking field restored itself, and the attack proceeded. A final explosion went off, and then there was no more.

  That’s where the surveillance data ends, the ensign said. I’m working with the Remnick authority to piece together what’s left.

  The young officer pressed on, tapping the neural implant at her temple to connect with the ship’s computer. Arendi walked closer and placed her hand on the ensign’s shoulder, gripping it tight.

  Good work, she said. This is what we need.

  She then instructed the ensign to rewind the footage. On the main view screen the crucial moment reappeared. It was the mysterious figure the attacker glaring back, her appearance no longer hidden. The tape had paused the image.

  Isolate this shot, Arendi ordered. Inform the Alliance and the rest of the Sentinel Guard. Priority code. I want this picture circulated.

  In hours, she would have her wish. Across the Alliance every governing agency and mass news sphere would begin carrying the image of what many would soon describe as the white-haired woman.

  Whoever she is, Arendi said, glaring back at the image, she’s now the most wanted person in the galaxy.

  Chapter 2

  Three months ago, he had seen the image. It had been everywhere, in every language, and in every form, rippling through star system after star system. The source: a galactic supergovernment six sectors away, nearly on the other side of the quadrant.

  It was also why he was here in this place, a so-called orbital den, located near an asteroid field.

  From what he had been told, shady practices and activities often prevailed in this nonaligned space station. In fact, there was little formal regulation here, and he could see the lawlessness through every winding passageway. The drugs, the weapons, the biomodifications were all crowded together in this bazaar of normally illegal goods.

  He shut off his translation module, tired of the sight. Now the alien words in his vision became a blur of digits and symbols. The surrounding holo signage remained a distracting eyesore. He looked elsewhere, inhaling the bits of chemical-infused smells, with nothing to do. The bar he sat in was dimly lit. A lifeless red glow hovered over him.

  There were others there. Others who could breathe the same air, move in the similar gravity, and presumably subsist off the same foods. He recognized none, however. All were too tall, too small, or too mechanical. Frankly, too bizarre.

  He hid behind his two hands, breathing from the gills in his face. He was a long way from home. The languages and customs in this part of space were still foreign to him. He didn’t care to learn them, understand them, or even feel them. Looking down, he stared at the square table at which he sat. His cup of water was the only thing to keep him company.

  Why am I here? He asked the question in the clutter of his mind, frustrated, worried, and lost.

  Then he did what came naturally and reached into the pocket of his jacket. Out of it came the memento a circular locket. It was his most prized possession. Within it was a simple picture that he had drawn long ago. It was she.

  Farcia what are you doing?

  It was the same woman. The one who had reportedly killed over forty thousand people in this region of space. The same woman whose image was everywhere, even at this station.

  He heard it from the corner. A newscast was playing over the bar’s speaker.

  Authorities report that at least eleven thousand are dead from yesterday’s attack against the Alliance military base at Gavidus Three. The culprits remain unknown, but it’s likely the same group who instigated the attacks at four other bases this past year.

  As stated before, the Alliance has issued a kill-on-sight order against the presumed leader.

  The man shuddered, hearing the live audio feed from his translation module. He quickly pulled the device out of his ear. Feeling the sweat on his four-fingered hand, he tried to close his eyes but saw the image instead. This time, from the bar’s holoprojector. The image of the so-called white-haired woman was etched in the light. It was a far cry from the other woman who sat in his locket.

  Farcia where are you?

  As he asked the question, he felt the subtle change. The air was moving. His visitor was close and approaching. He could sense the shroud of wayward thoughts. He looked to his side and saw the man. Or what he thought was a man. The alien had four arms and four legs, but at least he had a face, one covered in hair. This was the bounty hunter, the contact he had requested. He put away the locket, reactivated his translation modules, and then fidgeted with his hands, trying to remain calm. He was still new at this. The hunter was coming.

  You Red?

  Naturally, he wanted to reply not in words but through his mind. Instead he exhaled a low gargle. The translation machines did the rest.

  Yes, I’m Red, he said timidly. That’s me

  Red twisted in his chair. He tasted the saliva in his gills, trying to hone his words better.

  The spoken language. It was a crude thing. Although words were at times necessary, especially when dealing with alien races, he much preferred thoughts. Or in his case, telepathy. But for now, he set aside old habits.

  You’re late, Red complained.

  The hunter nodded and sat down at an adjacent chair. He crossed one pair of legs, while the other remained planted on the bar floor. His face, meanwhile, breathed hard through a mask. The tubes funneled the air from his environmental suit into his cheeks.

  Sorry, the hunter said, venting puffs of white mist. Red waved it off. His visitor offered no explanation, but he already knew the reason. The hunter had been in another part of the station, watching Red from afar, through the use of a floating drone. Red could feel the truth. Surrounding sensations and unadulterated thoughts easily entered his mind.

  The hunter was a cautious fellow. Curious as well. Curious why Red this interloper with no known registered ID would want to hire a bounty hunter.

  I was told you have a lot of money, the hunter went on, but our mutual contact was thin on details. Said you needed to meet immediately. What do you want, exactly?

  The hunter stared at Red, studying him and his clothes. He was dressed in a way that showed little. His arms, neck, and hair were all concealed behind by blankets of fabric. Even his lower face was hidden by a cowl. His eyes remained obscured by a black visor.

  The hunter lifted an eyebrow. You must have a special request an urgent need.

  Red could sense the hunter’s skepticism. Normally, he would have answered with a stream of telepathy. In seconds he could deliver his complete meaning, with the force of his mind. But instead, Red let the conversation unfold methodically, at this slow but still normal pace. He didn’t want to reveal too much.

  I have a job, Red said. The white-haired woman. I need

  So you’re the guy, the hunter interjected. The guy with the crazy request.

  Hear me out.

  The hunter was ready to leave. All four of his feet were planted on the floor. Red reached out across the table.

  I can pay you, he said, desperate. I ha
ve luxury credits. I can even pay some of it now

  Yeah, but you want her alive. That’s the problem.

  The hunter fell back in his chair and pulled off his mask. He spat on the ground and licked his teeth. The pink tongue and its green mucus slid across the incisors.

  You’re lucky I’m a professional. Others would swindle you. Rob you blind.

  Red could sense the sincerity, although the hunter’s facial expression and voice suggested annoyance. At least the mercenary was nonthreatening for now, anyway.

  I was told you were tracking her, Red said.

  Well, yes and no. I was curious. Everyone is. But this woman the target. She’s elusive. No tracks at all. Her image has been out there for months, and no one seems to know her.

  Red heard this and swallowed. That last part wasn’t entirely true, he thought.

  No clues. No nothing, the hunter added. The Sentinel Guard can’t do shit. They’ve been on her tail for even longer and are just as lost.

  The hunter looked out of the bar, watching as others walked by. He spotted a floating drone, followed by two security guards, each wearing mechanical armor. Red heard the thud of each robotic step.

  Damn Alliance is even here, patrolling the nonaligned territories. Ridiculous goddamn galaxy is in turmoil again.

  Reaching to scratch the mane around his face, the hunter looked at the news feed playing from the bar.

  Anyway, you must know about the last attack. She cut through an Alliance stronghold. Top-of-the-line defenses, and it didn’t even matter.

  I know, Red said. I know

  So, yeah. This stuff is out of my league. Out of everyone’s league, apparently. I’d stay away. Not that it matters. You’ll never be able to find her.

  The hunter put on his mask, sucking in a breath. Red watched, powerless to do any more. He could pull out his credits and plead again. But it wouldn’t matter. The hunter had made his decision. He would not budge.

  What?

  Red flinched. He pressed his face into his hand. The motion was so fast, the palm nearly slammed into his eyes. His blood was boiling. The strain was sudden. From the bar, he heard the crash. Then it came from across the table. Roars and screams. A commotion. Red felt it. His telepathy instantly made him aware. The sensation was deathly. The agony was excruciating. He fell off his chair, as though he had been struck down. He was on the bar floor, barely able to move. There was nothing to see or sense. There was only the pain, and then there was more.

  What is this?

  He was starting to see things. Things he thought he didn’t understand. Only he did. He had seen this before everything was dying.

  Red could hear the voice behind it. This was familiar. He hadn’t felt it in years.

  Farcia

  As he thought the name, the pain receded. Something, but not him, was holding the sensation back. Red made a fist and pushed himself off the floor. He pulled off his visor and the head scarf from his face. It revealed his white hair and rosy dark eyes. He gasped for air. At first he could barely stand. But he pushed forward, trying to react. He could still hear the screams. Wiping his eyes, he focused and looked down. The hunter was on the floor, cradling his face in his hands. It was the same pain, digging into the man, forcing him to live it. Red heard the clattering of words, all of it unintelligible; the translation was overshadowed by a choking cry.

  Laboring to breathe, the hunter extended a hand toward Red. His fingers clamped onto Red’s arm and clothes. He was shaking and screaming through his mask. The puffs of air were blowing like steam.

  II don’t understand Red said, watching in horror. The hunter was about to die. He felt the panicked drool soak into his hands. The hunter was salivating, perhaps even bleeding. Red opened his mind, trying to help, but was forced to pull back. The pain remained in the man, circulating everywhere. Everywhere but Red. The hunter let go, dead. His breathing had ceased.

  Red rose and ran. The sensation was still there. The telepathy was eating into its victims. He left the bar and saw the others. They were like the hunter. Either dead, dying, or comatose. Bodies littered the hallways. Inhabitants were slumped over vendor stalls or on the floor, yelping in pain.

  Red ran through the winding hallways. The ghastly view followed him. The massacre grew. The cries echoed. But now Red could feel it even more. The voice. He was close. The source was near. He ran harder, toward the stairway. He emerged into the station’s main promenade. It was a circular area large, and built to accommodate hundreds. In fact, he had been there before, passing a crowd and then a security checkpoint. There was none of that anymore. At his feet were more bodies. More victims, scattered across the floor.

  No he said.

  It was nearly the same sight. A room sapped of life. But still he looked, seeking the source of it all.

  She was among them the reason he had come. She stood in the center of the promenade, surrounded by her victims. Then she walked past them, immune to it all. Anyone else might have seen a faceless woman. But he saw the smile. It was in her eyes.

  Red Farcia said. I’ve found you.

  Chapter 3

  She was different. Not at all the way he wished to remember her. Gone was the innocence, along with the youth. This was no longer a young girl but a fugitive. Or perhaps even more appropriate, a living weapon one that seemed worn and battered, ready to break.

  Farcia walked, ever slowly, almost fragile in her marble-patterned gown. She had aged heavily since the last time Red had seen her. The luminescence of her Ehvian skin was still there, but everything else had faded. Her hair and face were limp; the body and cheeks were thin and sunken. Red saw little elegance. Only a graceless woman and that dark trace where great beauty once was.

  But most striking were her eyes and the deep cloud of black that shrouded them. He saw the tears. The drips of charcoal were falling to her chin.

  How long has it been? she asked in a long, wet sniff.

  Farcia spoke to him, not with a telepathic thought, but in a thin and weakened voice. It uttered from the hidden slits in her cheeks. The grumble could barely be heard.

  As for the deathly sensation, the telepathy around the woman had all but evaporated. Her mind was closed off. Although she approached, mentally, Farcia would not let him near. She breathed heavily from her gills and wished to only speak in the most minimal way.

  What what have you done? he asked.

  Above, the advertisements and music continued to play, undisturbed. The holoimages were beaming in neon. But Red saw and heard none of it. He was in a state of disbelief.

  He walked into the promenade to meet Farcia, the slaughter near his feet. It was all eerily calm a station bustling with activity had quickly been silenced. He heard a few more dying moans. Next to him lay a man, face down and unconscious. He was shivering, in the midst of a seizure, his containment suit cracked and oozing gas.

  Red stared at Farcia, demanding an answer. She looked back, unapologetic. Whatever sympathy she had, Red saw none.

  I had no choice, Farcia whispered. Security detected us.

  He looked through the bodies and noticed the smoke. Mechanical contraptions that resembled moving bots were on the floor, smashed. Red smelled the air signs of weapons fire, he thought.

  It doesn’t matter, she said. I came here to find you.

  Farcia coughed into her hand. Then again. The strain was evident. She fell onto one knee, then the next. She was holding her chest and stomach, cringing. Red ran to her, weaving through and over the bodies. He was only a few feet away when his blood boiled again. It coursed with anticipation. This was her. To be this close. Finally

  But suddenly, he stopped; his blood ran cool. Farcia was not alone.

  It seemed to materialize out of nothing a metal arm. It hung in the air, blocking his path. The palm opened. The fingers were like knives. Red watched as the rest of the body appear. It was armored, perfectly polished, and tiled in chrome.

  Like Farci
a, this was a weapon. A war machine plated in metal and towering over Red. It stood partially draped in shadow. Whatever cloak it deployed was receding, revealing angular arms and legs shaped as blades. Red looked up and gazed into its singular eye. It flashed, burning in hostility. This is what had destroyed the security bots now shattered on the ground. The figure glared at him, and he sensed its strength and speed. He felt as if the machine could crush him under its feet.

  Farcia coughed. He looked down and saw her wiping her face. It was saliva from the ducts in her cheeks, along with blood and bile. The tainted scarlet was drying across her hand.

  Perhaps, she smirked, I’m finally dying

  She was not well. Red cautiously moved past the machine. He circled around Farcia’s companion and knelt down to meet her.

  What happened to you?

  Farcia remained closed off. Her gaze fell to the floor and lingered there, her eyes blinking away tears.

  My body it’s changing. Can you help me?

  She sounded soft and wounded. Red reached out and brushed back the hair over her eyes. It came naturally to him. His fingers raised the white and silver strands to touch the brow of her face.

  Farcia responded. She remembered this. Closing her eyes, Farcia tilted her face into his hand. Her skin was hard, but moist with sweat and tears. She was exhausted, maybe even ashamed.

  Red caressed her cheek.

  Openopen your mind, he asked, wiping the tears away.

  For a moment, he could sense it. The sensation was faint, unaware, but alive.

  Please, he said. I want to help.

  Red then ended his words with a thought: Trust me.

  And so she did.

  It was brief, but it happened. One mind and another, side by side, ready to meld. A mixture of emotion and thought were transferring to Red, arriving in a flood. Then, in another moment, he fell back. Farcia pushed him away, slapping him in the face. He felt the fingers and the cold tears upon them.

  No! she screamed. This was a mistake!

  Farcia held one side of her head, ducking away. She then crossed her arms, shaking.

  No, it’s too late, she nearly shouted.