by Gregg Vann
“Well done, assassin. Well done… Especially in your condition.” The praise was as hollow as the sentiment behind it—the tone of his words announcing the return of the more clinical Marshall Toz. His anger had dissipated completely, replaced by the confidence an impending victory often engenders. “But I grow tired of this,” he continued, “and I do have other responsibilities. You know… I think I’ve changed my mind; I will kill you. And then ship your body back to the Yano. Give them a message…a hint of what’s to come.”
Seeris’ voice exploded in my mind. {Give me control, Udek! NOW!}
Everything I am told me not to do it, but watching Toz gloat—seeing him cherish his moment of victory—pushed me to my limit. But even more than that, I realized that I had no choice; I had to do something. Or die. I relaxed my control over Seeris’ body and felt his presence grow stronger, soon eclipsing my own. The Brenin’s mind surged through the primary physical connections in a desperate flight—like a long-caged animal fleeing its enclosure. Then he bypassed the unnatural chamber installed by the Bodhi and we switched places—like a ship taking on a new pilot.
I watched in fascination as Toz thrust his bledi down toward my head—even more amazed when I saw my own arm rise up and extend its weapon. But my reaction was nothing compared to the look on Toz’s face, when Seeris deflected the killing blow, then used both his arms to stab the marshal in the chest and throat. Toz froze motionless, and then his eyes flashed wildly before the inner lids closed and stayed shut. Seeris snatched the bledi back out, and then pushed the Toz’s corpse back onto the floor.
{You killed him, Seeris! We needed that information!}
Relax, Udek. We can use one of his hands to get what you want from any console on this ship. They are all keyed to Toz’s DNA. We may even be able to issue orders through the terminals, though to my knowledge, no one has ever tried it before. Nevertheless, I believe it will work.
{Put me back in control, Seeris. Put me in control…now}
I don’t think so.
{Bastard! I knew better than to trust you}
You had no choice, Udek; we’d be dead if you hadn’t. Toz has been slain, just as you wished, but I’m going to erase all evidence pointing to the Yano. My clan will not suffer for your schemes.
He rocked to one side, using the momentum to help him stand, then leaned up against a wall, trying to catch his breath.
“Now, let’s get out—”
Seeris stopped speaking…he stopped everything.
I could still hear the sucking sound coming from my damaged lung, but other than that, there was absolute silence. Seeris wasn’t moving; he was dead still. And out ahead of us I saw why. It was the Veilcat…still alive, with both scalpels hanging down from its neck. The animal’s mane was covered in matted blood, and a growing sanguine pool developed underneath where it stood. But it was still very much alive.
I’ve often heard that life is fragile, but if that’s really true, why are some things so damned hard to kill?
Seeris broke the silence, confirming my fears. “It has me, Udek.”
{Snap out of it! Concentrate. The cat is toying with your mind}
“I can’t… I can’t move.”
{Then give me back control}
“No…you will…”
The cat limped forward and roared defiantly.
{Give me control, Seeris. Now! It can’t affect my consciousness here in the chamber. I am immune. You must return the body to me!}
The Veilcat leapt just as my mind raced back into Seeris’ body. I jumped away from its mouth, landing flat on my back when my injured leg collapsed. The animal’s breath was thick in my nostrils as it spun around and pounced on me, holding me on the ground with its two front paws, one on each shoulder. It stared in my eyes and emitted a low growl. It was taking its time, I realized, playing with me in a macabre game that would end with my death. But I kept my focus, and when it finally leaned in close to bite, I struck.
I reached out and grabbed the dangling scalpels, pushing the knives in hard, and then pulling them in opposite directions. The blades ripped the cat’s throat apart, showering me in blood and gore. The animal went limp and landed on top of me with a sickening thud…finally dead.
I struggled to push the heavy beast off, and then pulled myself back upright using the nearest wall. Cautiously, I shuffled through the swelling puddle of blood and back over to where Toz’s body lay. Clenching my teeth, I grabbed my left bledi and bent it back, hard. It was painful, but compared to some of my other injuries the discomfort wasn’t that much of an issue.
{What are you doing to my body, Udek}
What is necessary.
The bledi snapped loose and I screamed. I had to painfully wiggle it back and forth to sever some of the internal structures, but it finally came free. Then I fell to my knees and used the serrated edge to cut off one of Toz’s hands. When I was finished, I buried the broken bledi in the neck wound where Seeris had stabbed him.
{You can’t do this, Udek! The Saba will know. It will bring chaos and death. You have no idea what you’re doing}
I’m doing what I have to do, Seeris. And you know that you can’t stop me. Now… If we intend to get to that scout ship unnoticed, we have to find a way to wash all of this blood off and get some clean clothing.
I coughed hard and my chest started convulsing; a clear, blue-tinged fluid spilled out of my lungs and ran warmly down my chin. I barely managed a few gulps of air before the bloody mixture returned to choke me again. Huddled over and grabbing my stomach, I spit the fluid out and started searching the room for a way to clean myself up.
Each step I took brought intense pain, and blood oozed out of wounds all over my body. I felt my heart race as it fought to keep my tissues supplied with oxygen, but my lips were growing numb and I knew that soon, if I couldn’t stem the blood loss, I’d join Toz and his Veilcat—wherever it was dead Brenin went. Despite what I’d told Seeris, I didn’t really believe we were going to make it all the way to the scout ship.
In fact, I didn’t think we were going to make it out of this room alive.
Chapter Thirteen
Brother Kiva looked down at the monitor tracking the ship’s progress through the vastness of space—the vessel represented by a small circle in the center of the display. The monk saw a much larger circle looming ahead of it, indicating the massive planet that lay directly in their path. He toggled a video feed on another monitor to take a closer look.
Kiva admired the beautiful world; it colorfully gleamed with varying shades of green and blue—each hue seamlessly diverging into the next, and all framed against the backdrop of a swirling, white nebula that lay just beyond the planet. Zooming in closer, he spotted the world’s two moons. His actual destination wasn’t visible yet, but Kiva knew that at this speed, it wouldn’t be much longer before it appeared on the monitor as well.
“We are pushing the engines far too hard, Brother Dyson.” Kiva’s voice was pained but respectful.
“We have little choice, Brother. We need to meet our admittedly ambitious schedule if we’re to have any hope of success.”
Kiva nodded. “Of course. But perhaps we can reduce the velocity just a little? Surely it can’t make that much of a difference.”
Brother Dyson leaned back in the small, uncomfortable chair and closed his eyes. He was visibly tired and exhaled slowly before speaking. “The maintenance personnel promised me that the ship would last the mission, Brother Kiva. And mere hours could be the difference between success and failure…life or death.” Dyson rubbed his eyes with both hands, and then opened them again to look at the young monk. “A few lost minutes could determine the very future of Bodhi Prime, Brother.”
The old monk pushed himself up from the chair and started pacing around the small ship, shaking his hands to ward off the tingling sensation that had developed in them. He’d rested little over the past few troublesome days, and now fatigue threatened to overtake him. Dyson realized that he would f
all asleep if he didn’t start moving, and now wasn’t the time. They were almost there.
Spirited conversation had kept him going until now, and Brother Kiva was good company, but they’d been working together closely for quite some time now, and there simply wasn’t anything new to talk about. Brother Dyson had just finished counseling his young disciple on some of the more profound aspects of the Buddha’s teachings—things he should reflect on further before going forward. Yes…he’d already given the eager monk plenty to ponder, and as they were the only two present on the little ship, Dyson’s choices now were to either make small talk with Kiva, or drown in himself in his own troubled thoughts.
He envied Kiva in many ways, seeing much of himself in the young man—a prism into a past when Dyson himself had much to learn, and was just as enthusiastic, sometimes maddeningly so. He looked back with amusement at how he must have tortured his masters, never relenting in his search for answers. And he showed his adherents the same patience his teachers had afforded him, squelching the occasional irritations that arose from his other responsibilities to give them the counsel they needed. Yes…there was much familiar about how Kiva saw the world, so idealistic and excited. Even more familiar was how he looked to Dyson for answers, just as the old monk had queried his elders all those years ago.
But Dyson also understood the differences between then and now; his masters had never been forced to deal with an increasingly violent galaxy, or the technological advances that had so profoundly changed the order itself. No, he mused, they never had to make the decisions foisted onto me over the last two centuries. They never had to adapt as I have.
Dyson clung to the Noble Truths, believed in the Eightfold Path, but he also knew that life didn’t often respect his beliefs. Sometimes you had to make hard choices…sometimes, you had to make impossible ones. He stretched his arms out and felt the weariness in his muscles, knew he needed to rest, but not yet. They were almost at the next stop—another chance at life—and another possibility of failure.
No! He thought to himself. Failure wasn’t possible. He would say what must be said; promise what needed to be promised. He would make them see. And if his principles interfered, he would put them aside for the greater good and make the right maneuvers—just as he’d been forced to do on far too many other occasions.
Just as he’d been forced to do with Kiro Tien.
What hell must that troubled soul be going through right now? He wondered.
“Brother Dyson,” Kiva called out, breaking the monk’s reverie. “There are four ships on their way to intercept us.”
“They are expected, Brother. They will escort us to the orbital platform for the meeting.”
“Brother…” Kiva began nervously, “I know you are wise, and I’d never question your judgment, but are you certain that this is the right course of action?”
“No,” Dyson admitted, surprising his subordinate. “This could be a tremendous mistake that costs us everything.” He plopped back down in the seat and looked the younger man in the eyes—his gaze adding weight to his words. “But the alternative is even worse.”
They both watched silently as the fighters took up escort positions around their vessel, then the five ships moved together toward the large space station. The collection of interlinked docking platforms and residence modules was perched in a low orbit around the bustling world below. As Dyson looked past the station and at the large planet, his thoughts turned to its peculiar inhabitants: the Blenej.
They were four-armed humanoids, very similar to humans, but interestingly, they had evolved over the eons into three distinct groups, each with a different colored skin. The Blenej were either blue, green, or red in appearance—each color having a unique psychological disposition that matched the physical disparity. The Blenej could be easily identified by color alone as philosophers, artisans, or soldiers, and the differences between them were much more than just skin deep—each group represented a fundamentally different aspect of the Blenej culture, and they filled their roles accordingly.
Brother Dyson so lamented this entire situation. How he’d love to debate philosophy with one of The Blue—compare the theological underpinnings of their society with his own. Or watch a performance by some of the highly gifted Green musicians and dancers—maybe even admire an exhibit in one of their art-filled galleries. There were so many wonderful reasons to visit this place—to take pleasure in their rich and diverse culture—but it was not to be; he was here for the one group that he had no interest in whatsoever. He was here for the soldiers; Dyson had come to meet with The Red. And his mission, the monk admitted to himself with a disturbing sadness, was a quest for violence. A goal that stood in complete opposition to everything he’d ever learned or taught. But there it was nonetheless.
The truth.
He looked out the window, beyond the planet and into the vastness of space, pondering this insanity. Through negotiation and subterfuge, he was becoming…had become, an agent of death. Not all that different from the Udek spy he’d unleashed on the Brenin. But where Kiro Tien was disturbingly comfortable with his ability to end life, it made Brother Dyson sick to his stomach.
Yes, the monk wondered as his ship automatically docked at the station, where was that Udek assassin now? And what havoc has he wrought this day? Was Tien already dead? Or was it he doing the killing? Either way, the blood being shed was on Dyson’s hands.
And that blood was seeping into his soul.
Chapter Fourteen
Damn it, Seeris. Where is it?
{I’m not certain; there should be a preparatory room here somewhere. Toz wasn’t in uniform, so he must have changed his clothing when he got here. He wouldn’t walk through the ship in that attire}
I painfully staggered around for a few more minutes before finally finding an unlocked door at the very back of the exercise room. It led to a staging area of sorts—a simple room with a sink and large wall locker—the latter containing different outfits of clothing, bandages, and miscellaneous medical supplies. The materials were all well used, and it was apparent that Toz had often treated his own injuries in lieu of going to the infirmary.
Locking the door behind me, I ripped off what was left of my clothing and evaluated myself in a large mirror mounted above the sink. Deep claw marks stretched across my chest, and tattered skin gelled together with coagulating blood to cake the wounds in a sticky mixture of gore. There were two smallish holes where Toz’s bledi had pushed their way through the skin, and turning to the side, I was able to see their much larger counterparts in my back. The entrance wounds were jagged from the serrated edges of the bledi, and as I watched, a large flap of skin pushed out from one of the holes—flinging a small amount of blood in the air before being sucked back down again with the next breath I took.
I looked down to find that my legs were in no better shape.
There were no towels in the locker so I grabbed some of the clothing and wet it in the sink—cleaning the wounds and the wiping the dried blood off my body. Even though my injuries were life threatening and I desperately needed to get moving, I also knew that I must be meticulously clean. Any blood that I missed would draw unwanted attention, and that could also prove fatal.
Once finished, I placed gauze pads over the puncture wounds and skin-tape across the claw marks, pulling them tightly closed. Then I covered the gashes with the self-adhering gauze as well, throwing the empty packaging on top of the bloody pile of discarded clothing and used supplies on the floor. I checked everything over once more before finally turning my attention to my legs. I reached down and removed the makeshift tourniquet and the blood started flowing again.
{There is an arterial clamp in the med-kit—a small tube with an intelligence chip. If you place it in the wound, it will find the rupture and repair it}
I reached into the bag and pulled out the tiny device Seeris had described.
{Just push it through the wound}
I did as he instructed, squirming as I
felt the device move through my flesh and into position. Within moments, the blood flow slowed to a trickle and then stopped altogether. I quickly cleaned up my legs with more wet clothing and bandaged the wounds, then pulled a green tunic and matching pants from the closet and started dressing myself.
{No, Udek. Green is marshal’s rank only. We would be discovered immediately. Put on the black set}
I tossed the green outfit aside and dressed myself in the black one instead. It was a chore to pull the clothing on; even the muscles that did work were sore, and the bandages restricted my limited mobility even further. But eventually, I got everything on and turned to look at myself in the mirror.
Not bad.
{Not good either, Udek. Your posture and injured gait will draw notice. Stay as far away from everyone as you can}
I intended to do that anyway.
{This has all taken a great deal of time; the marshal’s adjutant should be here soon to collect him. We must leave now}
I wrapped Toz’s hand in a clean shirt, and then stuffed it into a small, black carryall I found on the floor of the locker.
Let’s go.
I unlocked the door and stumbled my way back through the exercise room, passing the bodies of Toz and his Veilcat along the way. I moved cautiously around them, trying to avoid stepping in the copious amount of blood splattered and dragged throughout the area—I knew that much of it was my own. I was pulling my bad leg along and leaning heavily toward my right side, but I eventually made it to the front door and out of the exercise room. I looked down the corridor in both directions before stepping out, heading off in the direction of the transport station. I concentrated on walking smoothly…normally, but there was a sharp pain in my stomach and I doubled over—quickly snapping back upright as another Brenin passed by.