The Chaos Sutra

by Gregg Vann

  “I have to ask, Ryll. Why are you pushing this so hard? With Brother Dyson out of the picture, and the other monks so disengaged, you’re well-poised to become the next leader of the monastery.”

  “A position I do not want,” the monk replied sternly. “Not in the slightest. I enjoy assisting Brother Dyson, and appreciate the positive impact I can make in that role. But I would never crave his burden.”

  Tien scoffed. “In my experience, the people who desire power the least are usually the best qualified to wield it.”

  “That may be, and it certainly has the ring of truth to it, but no one can replace my mentor. Brother Dyson is indispensable to the Order. He has centuries of experience, knowledge that can’t be replicated, or replaced. But more than that, Tien, I cannot leave him in the hands of that madman. We have to rescue him from Miso.”

  “Then I only have one more question for you, monk. Why would Miso go to Ko’ln? What business could he possibly have with the Udek? Or them with him?”

  The young monk shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s something of a mystery, really. But I will instruct my people to begin making inquires.”

  “Good, and I’ll do the same through my own sources. We’d be foolish to proceed without knowing the full picture.”

  “I agree.”

  Tien used his good arm to push himself up from the chair. “I’ll tell the Obas to provide you with quarters so you can get yourself cleaned up.” He remembered a final question. “The ship you just sent for. What’s it bringing, exactly?”

  “Something that will make this mission possible, I hope.”

  “Could you be any more obscure?”

  “Honestly, Tien, I don’t think I could explain without showing it to you. And even then, you may have a hard time believing it.”

  The monk’s expression grew anxious and his voice troubled. “I know I still do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Special Corp operative Brey Gareth looked out from the side window of his diminutive, one-man feather-light, peering down through a rare break in the forest canopy at a tiny patch of open ground, roughly fifteen meters below him. On some planets he could have easily made that jump, threading his body straight down through the tightly clustered branches to leave the silent feather-light hovering in place, well away from the reach of hostile ground forces. But in Polit’s gravity, Gareth knew he’d surely break both legs if he leapt out from this height. And the Iriq’s renowned visual acuity meant that parachuting in to one of the nearby glades would have announced his presence much like a flare—stealth suit or no—slowly drifting down from the sky to inevitable capture or death. So that hadn’t been a viable option either.

  No, Gareth thought, taking one last glance through the narrow gap in the foliage. This spot won’t work.

  He’d have to continue skimming along the treetops until he found a more suitable opening, one large enough to descend just a little further. There was no other choice.

  As he slid into motion again, Gareth gazed out through the darkness of night, using his eyes and sensors both to search for any sign of the rebels. If there was danger nearby, it was up to him to detect it. Gareth was alone on this mission—the only Special Corp agent on the entire planet, in fact. But that wasn’t unusual. Udek operatives typically worked alone. It did mean he’d have to be extremely cautious when moving against the Iriq though, because there was no backup plan or rescue team in place. Gareth had only himself to rely on.

  And the threat was real.

  The Iriq had proven themselves to be highly skilled combatants while fighting the Udek commandos stationed on Polit, and their unorthodox tactics were maddeningly effective during the limited engagements that broke out during the occupation. But most importantly—and chief in Gareth’s mind as he searched for a satisfactory place to descend—this planet was their home. That was a useful advantage against an invading force, and one that should never be discounted. Not if you wanted to live.

  Gareth spotted exactly what he was looking for and dipped the feather-light into a concave depression in the canopy, formed by a circular copse of shorter trees. He eased the small craft into an irregular opening at the center of the leafy bowl and began his descent. The outermost limbs of the surrounding trees brushed against the feather-light’s covered impeller pods as Gareth slowly sank toward the forest floor. And at five meters above the ground, he set the craft to auto-hover and jumped out, landing softly in the dense and prickly underbrush.

  By Gareth’s well-calculated reckoning, he was half a kilometer away from the rebel camp—much closer than he had originally planned to begin his infiltration. He’d hoped to cover the entire last kilometer on foot, so he could get a better lay of the land, and scout ahead for distant sentries. But the environment had left him little choice in the matter. Gareth took a moment to adjust his infra-lens, dialing back the filters to accommodate the lower light-levels on the forest floor, and then he promptly set off.

  This is a shit assignment, he mused, treading across a spongy layer of moss that completely covered the uneven ground. Gareth pushed his way through the thick undergrowth and sagging vines, carefully stepping over a multitude of large roots that twisted out in every direction across the forest floor. He turned sideways to slide through a marginal gap between two impressively broad tree trunks. What a waste of my time, traipsing around a bug-infested forest in the middle of nowhere. I still can’t believe they stuck me on this backwater planet.

  Polit reportedly possessed great strategic value, related to plans for Udek expansion in this sector of space. But Gareth wouldn’t care if the planet spun off its axis and straight into the local star. This was nothing more than a punishment posting to him—pure and simple. But there was no mystery as to how Gareth ended up here; the Udek assassin knew exactly what he’d done to earn this assignment.

  Like everyone else sent to this meaningless little world—positioned so far away from the core of civilized space that most people never even gave it a thought—Gareth had angered the wrong person. In his case, it happened to be Awi Stenth, the Chancellor of the Udek Special Corp. Polit was Gareth’s reward for botching, well, partially botching his last mission. But he knew things could be worse—much, much worse. Most people who incurred Chancellor Stenth’s wrath were never seen again, so maybe Gareth was lucky. He didn’t feel lucky, though.

  Yeah. This…is a shit assignment.

  The minor rebellion on Polit had started out as a mere nuisance. But recently, the rebels had become more than just a thorn in the side of Udek forces stationed on the planet, they’d actually begun inflicting serious casualties on any and all Udek troops sent out from their heavily fortified base—severely restricting their operational efficiency, and limiting Udek ground activity to only the most essential missions. In response to this unsettling turn of events, the Special Corp had dispatched Gareth to the planet to gather intel, and if possible, to assassinate the leaders of the rebel movement—decapitating the resistance, and pushing the rank and file back into the shadows where they belonged, defanged, compliant, and forgotten. Special Corp strategists surmised that a leadership strike would be enough to make the group disband altogether, ending the problem once and for all, so that became Gareth’s primary goal.

  He was unhappy with the assignment, patently so. But soon after Gareth’s arrival on Polit he’d undertaken his appointed task with a vengeance—knowing that as soon as he was finished, it meant swift redemption in the eyes of Awi Stenth. Or so he hoped. Gareth could then leave for a better posting, somewhere civilized, and he planned to never look back once he did. He wanted to erase the entire experience from his memory—and not just the punishment, but also the failure that led to it in the first place. Gareth sought nothing short of total absolution. To say he was motivated to succeed in his mission would be a gross understatement, and his actions since landing on Polit were a testament to this single-minded pursuit.

  Gareth’s first order of business was to capture a suspected rebel n
amed Frial. Gathering actionable intelligence had been difficult on Polit; it was a slow process, and thwarted at every turn by the locals. But the Udek had scored a rare success in identifying Frial. Military records indicated she was at least tangentially involved with the resistance, positively linked to two dead Iriq whose bodies were recovered after a failed attack on the Udek base. Frial became the obvious starting point.

  Gareth decided his best approach would be to kidnap and torture Frial for information, standard Special Corp procedure when you wanted to retire a mission quickly. And it was a task he undertook with great abandon. Late one night, Gareth abducted Frial from her home, drugging the suspected rebel and taking her back to the Udek base for interrogation.

  That was when the pain began.

  Imagined abuse through invasive cerebral manipulation, mainly via implants shunted directly into Frial’s skull to stimulate fear and horror responses. And true, physical abuse; broken bones, flensed and burned flesh, and repeated sexual assault. Gareth was as merciless as ever, maybe more so due to his unhappy circumstances, and he was determined to get the location of the rebel camp so he could infiltrate it and assassinate the Iriq leaders. It was the only sure way to free himself from Polit and regain his former life, so Gareth would have his answers.

  One way or another.

  Remarkably, Frial held out for several days, so strong-willed and adamant in her defiance that Gareth had a brief bout of doubt Frial was even involved with the resistance. But in the end, and after suffering through a hell that no one could be expected to endure, she finally broke. Everyone has a limit, a point where body and mind betray even the most resolute of wills, and Frial finally met hers. Gareth repaid her cooperation by slicing Frial’s throat, and then he dumped her body where it would be easily found. Frial’s badly mutilated corpse was meant to serve as a message to the other rebels. This…this is the price you pay for defying the Udek. Now it was time to collect from the Iriq leadership.

  The bill for their insurrection had come due.

  Gareth glimpsed a hint of something strange in his peripheral vision and abruptly halted, dropping down to a low crouch behind a fallen tree. As the loamy smell of moist soil invaded his mask, Gareth began to notice pulsing white flashes, erupting all around him—like tiny insects, flitting in and out of existence. The cadence of the lights appeared random and irregular, and some of the intermittent pulses seemed brighter than others. Gareth reached up to adjust his infra-lens so he could investigate the odd phenomenon. But then, just as quickly as they appeared, the flashes were gone, replaced by the dark and silent confines of the forest.

  The heavy canopy overhead blocked out most of the illumination coming from Polit’s moons. The densely interwoven trees acted as an effective filter, an opaque, natural border that treated light like an unwanted invader. Without his infra-lens, Gareth wouldn’t have been able to move safely through the cluttered terrain of the forest floor, and he correctly guessed that the canopy was one of the main reasons the rebels had chosen this location for their camp, keeping it safe from the prying eyes of Udek forces. It was a smart move. Gareth held his position for a few moments longer, waiting to see if the flashes reappeared. But only the darkness remained.

  It was nothing, he told himself. Probably just bugs of some sort. Maybe I should have done more than just skim over the planet brief for this mission.

  Gareth stood up and continued on his way.

  Another half-hour of slow and cautious movement brought him to the outskirts of the rebel camp. Gareth squatted behind a rotted-out tree stump and leaned out from one side of it, pushing a finely woven tangle of insect webbing out of his way to peer through the brush. He saw a small collection of wood-framed huts in the clearing up ahead, and a dozen canvas tents placed in a rough circle—arranged around several long tables and a partially covered fire pit. Gareth noticed wooden ramps attached to a few of the trees on the opposite side of the clearing, and he increased the magnification on his infra-lens to get a better look.

  All of the ramps sloped up at gentle angles, winding around the curvature of their respective trunks to end at boxy structures built within the lower branches of the trees. Those dwellings, along with the few Gareth had already counted on the ground, allowed him to estimate that the camp housed between thirty and forty people—and it was clearly still in use. As he looked around, Gareth saw the signs of recent occupation everywhere. He discovered neatly stacked wash basins on one of the tables, and a decent-sized charging station near the center of the camp. There were also three waste reclamation units lined up next to each other, out away from the rustic sleeping accommodations. But the one thing Gareth didn’t see were any Iriq rebels.

  Not in front of him, anyway.

  By the time Gareth heard the branches snapping behind him, it was already too late.

  He spun around and rapidly raised his weapon—instinct and training directing his actions, milliseconds before his conscious mind could contemplate the command. But a rifle butt smashed into Gareth’s face before he could fire. He fell backwards and his gun discharged, burning a fist-sized hole through the chest of Gareth’s attacker. Another Iriq stepped in from Gareth’s right and snatched his weapon away, kicking him in the head, and then a veritable swarm of bodies poured out from behind the cover of nearby bushes and trees, crushing the Udek operative down into the mossy growth covering the forest floor. Gareth managed to draw his knife and stabbed one of his attackers in the stomach, but then another of the rebels pounced on his free arm and pinned it down with his knee. He then stripped the blade away. A large Iriq pressing Gareth down with his forearm reached up and pulled on the methane mask, holding it out from Gareth’s face until the Udek finally stopped struggling. Then the rebel grudgingly replaced it.

  The fight was over.

  As Gareth struggled to recover his breath, two rebels rolled him over and bound his hands behind his back. Then they pulled him upright, and pushed Gareth into a seated position against a nearby tree. Several of the Iriq began treating the woman Gareth stabbed in the abdomen during the fight, but there was no hope for the rebel he’d shot through the chest—Gareth knew a kill shot when he saw it. An older, yet still vital man broke away from the group and came forward to address him, staring down at the Special Corp operative with a look of disgust on his face.

  “My name is Kuv,” he said. Then he waved a hand to indicate the others. “And these are my people.”

  The apparent leader of the Iriq rebellion glanced over at the dead man lying on the forest floor. Kuv’s expression hardened into rage, and he kicked Gareth in the chest with such force that something inside of him snapped. Cartilage? Bone? Both? Whatever it was hurt, and the injury forced Gareth to take shallow, raspy breaths in an effort to avoid the pain. It didn’t work.

  “We got your message,” Kuv told him, enjoying Gareth’s obvious discomfort. “I want you to know that Frial was family. We take care of our family. And when we can’t, we avenge them…mercilessly.”

  Gareth knew what to expect next: the threats.

  “You’re going to help us now, by telling us everything you know about the Udek base and its defenses.”

  Kuv stepped in closer and leaned down, backhanding Gareth across the face so hard that his head violently twisted off to the side. The Udek fell over, and blood began to pool in his partially displaced mask. Kuv pulled Gareth back up against the tree again and squatted down in front of him—so that they were face-to-face.

  “Oh, I know what you must be thinking, Udek. That you can somehow resist us, and that you won’t give us anything. But believe me when I say that no matter what your training, you will tell us everything we want to know. Because we’ll be cutting parts of you off while we have our discussion.”

  Kuv reached out and grabbed Gareth’s chin, pulling his face up until their eyes locked. “And then, after we’re done with you—when you’re dead, and in dozens of pieces—we’ll leave what’s left of your corpse in a pile outside the Udek base.r />
  “To send our own message.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What do you mean, Boe can’t come with me?” Tien asked forcefully, ignoring the rank and stature of the powerful man standing before him. Tien’s coarse demeanor wasn’t meant as a slight—to either the person or their position. The brusque attitude was merely his normal way of communicating. Like most Udek, Kiro Tien was nothing if not direct. “I need him, Speaker Lews.”

  While waiting for Brother Ryll’s mysterious shipment from Bodhi Prime to arrive, Tien had dedicated himself to lining up the necessary resources for the mission ahead. And the most pressing item on that list was arranging safe passage to Ko’ln. As a wanted man, marked for assassination, just traveling to the Udek home system would be difficult enough. But Tien knew he’d also have to figure out a way past the Interdiction Zone once he got there, and the planet’s orbital security ring—two even more daunting tasks. He was frustrated because days had gone by since he’d fully committed himself to this dubious venture, and Tien had made precious little headway in solving any of these problems.

  And now this.

  “What I mean,” Speaker Lews replied, ignoring Tien’s unintended slight, “is that Boe and the other Master Pilots are needed here, on Obas, to help train the next group of starship captains. You’ve pushed us out to the stars, Tien, and have only yourself to blame. With the number of trade missions we’ve successfully completed, and the military buildup currently underway, we’ll have to increase the ranks of our pilots tenfold just to meet the immediate demand. And that amount doesn’t even begin to touch upon our future requirements, as interplanetary commerce continues to expand. Master Pilot Boe is critical to the effort…irreplaceable, in fact. I’m sorry, but he must remain here, with us.”