Cataclysm: Rystar and the LASSOs Book Three

by Jack Archer

  In case the Horoths had alerted Sluirossi to their presence, they circled around, away from the main entrance, to another side door that led straight to the Underground. Rystar pulled out her tablet, shielding it from the cold, and tapped out a message to Shea, asking him to let her in.

  When the door opened, Rystar and Na’gya piled through, and Rystar ripped her helmet off. “What the hell was that?”

  Na’gya took his helmet off with a little more care and resting it on his hip. “What was what?”

  “Sacrificing yourself so I could get out,” Rystar said. “Why me, and not Enzo?”

  Shea still had the door open and peered out of it as if to see Enzo tromping up the way. Rystar scoffed and waved her hand at him. “You can shut that door. Enzo isn’t coming.”

  Shea shut the door but narrowed his eyes at her. “They caught him?”

  “Because white knight here wanted to prioritize me instead of, you know, the guy who has all the god damn answers,” Rystar said, her voice raising the slightest bit. Enzo was far more important than her in the grand scheme of things, with his infinite knowledge of the cyber realm and what would have been the Horoths secret base.

  Rystar kicked at the ground. Guilt crept into her chest as Na’gya’s eyes fell to the floor. It wasn’t his fault. It was Enzo’s for not listening to them when they asked him to leave. Or it was Rystar’s for not unloading into the guards when she had the chance.

  Mindreader he was, Na’gya stepped to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, I promise.”

  “I know it’s not,” Rystar said, her shoulders slumping. “But we still failed, and now we’ve ruined our chance at getting any information, plus the Horoths will be on high alert now that they know we’re onto them.”

  Na’gya sighed, and Shea walked up to them, motioning for them to follow him down the way and to the Wings’ quarters. “Let’s warm you guys up and get you something to eat.”

  “I don’t feel like eating,” Rystar mumbled, and Na’gya nodded his agreement.

  “I don’t care. You need to eat,” Shea insisted, turning them into a back entrance. “It’s been over six hours. You need food.”

  Rystar stayed grumpy about it but sat down at the table while Shea headed to a table laden with food to grab them both a plate. How convenient, they had made it back just in time for dinner to be served.

  When he came back, Shea placed the plates in front of them and sat down next to Na’gya, across from Rystar. “Kyran will come to see you soon. What are you going to tell him?”

  More guilt coursed through Rystar as she thought of Kyran, how disappointed he would be when he found out. “I’m going to tell him the stupid bastard wouldn’t listen to me and ended up getting caught.”

  “He’s not going to be happy,” Shea said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, no shit,” Rystar grumbled, pushing food around on her plate. She sighed and let her fork clatter down as she put her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, Shea. I don’t mean to be short with you.”

  “I understand,” Shea said.

  After a while of not eating their food, footsteps approached, and Rystar looked up. Kyran made his way to their table and did one sweep before his face fell. “Where’s Enzo?”

  Rystar sighed. “He got caught, Kyran. The guards rushed us, and he was stuck in a room without us.”

  “Why’d you leave him alone?” Kyran shot, his red eyes glowing.

  “We were watching the hallway,” Rystar threw back at him, standing up from her seat to face Kyran. “And I told him to move his ass and follow us, and he didn’t.”

  Kyran took a deep breath and looked like he wanted to punch something but rubbed at his eye and turned away instead. “He’s been known to do that.”

  “Kyran, I’m sorry,” Rystar said, stepping towards him and slipping their hands together. “I really tried, but they rushed us so quickly. It was one or all of us.”

  “You did the right thing, getting Na’gya out of there,” Kyran said, turning around to face her, a sad smile on his face. “Who knows what they might have done with Na’gya once they found out who he was.”

  “We can save Enzo, don’t worry,” Rystar said.

  “Not any time soon.”

  They looked up to see Ji’lan striding towards them, arms folded across his broad chest and wings flapping behind him. Rystar broke away from Kyran’s hands and faced Ji’lan. “I’m sorry, there were just too many guards.”

  “Do not be sorry,” Ji’lan said with a shake of his head. “I sent you in there knowing it was a hopeless case. I only hoped you would get at least some data.”

  “I wish it were me and not Enzo,” Rystar said, “and for that, I apologize.”

  “I hate to say I agree,” Ji’lan said, wincing at his own words. “Enzo’s data would have been invaluable to our cause.”

  Though it was true, it didn’t stop the icy stab from ripping through Rystar’s chest at Ji’lan’s agreement.

  “So what now?” Rystar asked, taking in a deep breath and bouncing on her toes, trying not to think about how useless she was in this capacity. “How do we save him?”

  “I’m not sure we do just yet,” Ji’lan said, picking at a spot on his shirt.

  “What are you talking about? We have to go get him immediately,” Kyran said, taking a step towards Ji’lan. He looked up, regarding Kyran with an impassive stare.

  “He will surely be taken to our moon, Tahi,” Ji’lan explained. “It’s a low-security prison, and it might be easy for us to make his bail.”

  “Why would they take someone who broke into their secret base to a low-security prison?” Rystar asked.

  “It is low security because our moon has no gravity and no bubble,” Ji’lan said with a wry smile. “Escape is nearly impossible.”

  Rystar growled, sitting down at the edge of the table’s bench. “Can we at least try?”

  “They will most certainly identify your LASSOs and keep you from entering,” Ji’lan said, scratching his chin. “And we have no ships for you to use. I am at a loss of ideas for your friend.”

  Rystar put a hand over her mouth and rested her elbow on her knee, looking up at Kyran, who merely stood there with his hands on his hips. A hush fell over the crew, and they remained in the hall for a long time.

  Chapter Six

  Enzo Vida: Tahi Prison, Tahi

  On the one hand, he couldn’t believe Rystar and Na’gya would just leave without him. On the other, he did have a habit of saying “two more minutes” when they really didn’t have two more minutes.

  The Horoths had stripped him of his gear, and he felt terribly naked as they gripped him under the arms and dragged him to a cell somewhere far away from where they caught him.

  Part of Enzo was furious they had left him behind, but when he saw just how many guards had swarmed the hallway, it made sense to him. No use in them all getting caught and hung out to dry.

  They tossed him into the small cell, and he stood up to gather his bearings when the door clanged shut. Dim light filtered through the bars and shone down on a lone cot with no blanket and a bucket Enzo shuddered at. No window adorned the wall and Enzo’s heart sank. Even though there was nothing but snow outside, he still liked having the ability to stare out at the blur of grey and white.

  Enzo had tossed and turned on his tiny cot, only moving when the guards brought him a sliver of food stacked haphazardly on a tray. His face itched with a three-day-old beard, and his hair hung in clumps around his chin. No part of his body or clothing was clean. He laid on his back on the cot, unmoving, for many hours at a time. It must have been days before a Horoth guard came to yank him out of the cell, slap a pair of handcuffs on him, and push him roughly down the hallway.

  The ride to Tahi went smoothly, as smooth as a prison ride could be, and after a few hours, they docked at the Tahi prison. Enzo was shoved off board and led off the ship and into an airlock that transformed into an old, worn building.

&nb
sp; The hallways went on and on, twisting and turning, and Enzo lost count of all the doors they pushed through. They passed other cells with prisoners, rooms holding massive computers that spanned from the floor to the ceiling. Enzo found himself craning his neck to take a look despite his situation.

  An office loomed into view. As they approached it, the hard grip on Enzo’s arm became tighter as they opened the door and flung him inside.

  “Chief Brosond,” the Horoth guard greeted. “This is the man we found breaking in several days ago.”

  “And you’re just now bringing him to me?” the Chief drawled, pushing his glasses up his nose and raising his head to regard his office’s new intruders.

  “There’s been a backlog of prisoners, sir,” the guard replied.

  “But this one has a very interesting tablet,” the Chief said, holding up Enzo’s tablet. Enzo’s heart hammered in his throat. Even though he had set his tablet to encrypt its sensitive files upon capture, anything could be broken into.

  “My apologies, sir,” the guard said, bowing his head.

  “Leave us,” Chief Brosond sighed, waving the guard away and motioning for Enzo to sit. Enzo sat in the worn chair and put his handcuffed hands between his knees. The guard shut the door, and they sat in silence for a few minutes while the Chief finished up something on his own tablet. Finally, he took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve been in cyber?”

  Enzo gulped, shaking his head.

  “Fifty years,” Chief Brosond replied. “That’s most of my life. Do you know how many times I’ve come across a tablet like this?”

  Enzo shook his head again, and the Chief smirked.

  “Once,” he said, scooting Enzo’s tablet across the table. “And I never got the pleasure of catching him. Since we don’t know anything about you, why don’t you tell me a little about who you are and why you’re here.”

  “How do you know I won’t just lie to you?” Enzo scoffed.

  “I don’t,” the Chief said, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands together. His giant, black wings soared out on either side of him, and his small, beaked face stared at him with two dark, wide-set eyes. Brownish-black feathers lined his shoulders and down his spindly arms, his cool pale skin flashing out between tufts of down feathers. “But here’s hoping.”

  “My name is Delphi,” he responded, leaning forward to grab his tablet from the table. Sure enough, he was able to get in, but everything was encrypted. The private key was back on Firehawk, and only he could access it. “I’ve been in cyber for a hundred and fifty years, basically since its birth on Braluria.”

  “Impressive,” the Chief said, raising an eyebrow. “I assume the key to unlock all of your information is safeguarded somewhere?”

  Enzo tilted his head and gave the Chief a sardonic smile. The Chief let out a snort.

  “Why are you giving me my tablet back?” Enzo asked, swiping through his various programs and finding nothing. All the data he had accumulated from his excursion was gone before he had a chance to upload it.

  “Because I believe you can be of use to us,” the Chief said, standing up and moving to the room’s only window to Enzo’s right. “Right now, we’re at war with the planet’s population of Ya’ados and most of their Sustri. We acquired this planet two decades ago, and ever since, they’ve been fighting against us.”

  “I wonder why,” Enzo grumbled, setting his tablet down and sitting back in his chair.

  “The Sustri were happy to have the burden of running this planet lifted when we came,” the Chief said, turning to face Enzo with wide eyes. “Why, they practically begged for us to take it off their hands. You know how unwilling the Sustri are when it comes to responsibility.”

  Enzo bit his tongue and stared at the floor, a heat creeping into his face.

  “Oh, don’t get all pouty,” the Chief scoffed and turned to sit back down in his chair. “I know not all Sustri are that way, especially you. Look at how hard you’ve worked to get to the level of knowledge you’re at. It’s very impressive.”

  “Why should I help you all?” Enzo asked, flicking his eyes back up to the Chief.

  “Because if you don’t, you’ll stay in that cell for the rest of your incredibly long life,” the Chief said simply, his voice lowering into a pit of fire. Enzo sucked in a breath through his nose. He didn’t doubt the Horoths had that capability.

  He thought about it for a moment. Even though he didn’t have any of his data unlocked, he could still gather new data and somehow get it out to Rystar and the crew if they ever moved him.

  If.

  “Fine,” Enzo huffed, wishing he could cross his arms in defiance. “I’ll help you.”

  The Chief grinned from ear to ear and clapped his hands together. “Excellent news. I’ll have you moved to another room immediately, a nicer one on the second floor. You’ll still be our prisoner, mind you, but you’ll see we treat those that help us with great rewards.”

  Enzo felt sick to his stomach as Chief Brosond called for the guard to take Enzo away to a special cell on the second floor. He grabbed his tablet and let the guard lead him to a set of elevators that opened to a hallway lined with plush, white carpet and stained, wooden walls. The ceiling was far above them, and the guard pulled him along to a set of double doors that opened to a large, grey room with plexiglass cells plastered along its length.

  Each cell was the size of a Mach II LASSO, and the cots had blankets. The toilet sat behind a half wall, and there was even a small table on the opposite wall with a chair he could lounge in.

  The guard threw him in the cell and shut the door, sliding the lock shut, and Enzo was left alone to his thoughts and his tablet. He looked down at it and sighed. Even if he could break his own encryption, there was no way to get the data back to the ship. The chair squeaked under him when he sat down in it. He swiped his tablet open, diving into one of his encrypted files to try and break it open.

  Days turned into weeks and the wind continued to howl outside.

  The Horoths had him break into Sustri government files, encrypt their own files with his proprietary code, and even hide tracks as they broke into a Terran security system in Sluirossi.

  Every night, he told himself it was to keep his tablet with him and crack open his files a little more.

  Until week three, when it seemed the Horoths finally trusted him to do their truly dirty work. The guard came for him that morning, and he trudged out of his cell, not needing to be handcuffed now. Barely glancing up from his tablet, he stood in front of Chief Brosond and swiped away.

  “Need your attention for this mission,” the Chief huffed, and Enzo finished what he was doing before letting his tablet hang by his side.

  “What is it today, Chief?” Enzo asked in a flat tone.

  “Today, we will be performing a rehabilitation on a Ya’ados square in Sluirossi,” he explained, holding a hand out for Enzo to follow him down the hall and to a different room than the one he was used to.

  “What the hell is a ‘rehabilitation?’” Enzo asked, his hands growing cold as he realized he was in a room with several Horoths in their classic fatigues.

  “The Underground is growing a bit too rowdy for our tastes,” the Chief explained. “And just like several years ago with their community center, we need to rehabilitate one of their gathering places.”

  “The… the Patros Community Center bombing?” Enzo stuttered, remembering the conversation with Ji’lan and Na’gya what seemed like a lifetime ago. “They said the Sustri did that.”

  “So easy to dupe,” the Chief chuckled and motioned for Enzo to sit down. He did, gazing up at the multitude of screens, showing the corners of streets, lone buildings, mostly centered on the Underground. His eyes lingered on the screen that showed the entrance of the Wings of Vengeance, and he shuddered. What were they up to?

  “Today’s target is the Ritual Family Center,” the Chief said, nodding for a Horoth engineer to bring up the Center on
a screen. It was bustling with people, just like most of the Underground, and Enzo turned to face the Chief, eyes wide with horror.

  “You cannot expect me to assist you with this,” he hissed. “These are my people.”

  “These are no more your people than those back on Braluria,” the Chief said, his voice dripping with venom. “But you won’t be performing the rehabilitation. You will be altering records that will make it seem as if the Visili Sustri were responsible.”

  “Who are the Visili?” Enzo asked, his eyes locked on the screen.

  “An old and powerful family in Sluirossi,” the Chief responded as an afterthought. He placed a hand on the console and stared at the screen that showed the Center, full of life and energy, and Enzo wanted to look away but could not. “Set the charges and countdown for five minutes.”

  “Yes sir,” came a voice on the radio. Enzo gazed at the Horoths around him, impassive as statues.

  “You can’t do this,” he said, standing up and clutching his tablet to his chest. “No one will believe the Sustri bombed their own people.”

  “They’ve believed it for years now,” the Chief said, standing up straight and facing Enzo. “There have always been factions of you all, and they’ve always hated each other. Sometimes more than they hate us. My team will send you the files you need to alter. If they’re not done, expect three more rehabilitations with your signature written all over them.”

  It wouldn’t be hard to recreate his signature, especially if they took his tablet from him. An explosion went off on the screen, and the sound of screaming filled Enzo’s soul, the image of a Sustri woman walking down the street missing an arm burned into his memory forever.

  He didn’t stop crying that night for a long while, his face buried in his hands, back pressed against the rough fabric of his cot’s blanket. The files were altered. He had sent them back to the Chief and supposed they were being sent off into the snowy void for transport. Soon enough, the Sustri would believe they had bombed themselves for no apparent reason.