Shabin- The Reluctant Prince of Rhime

by Andrew Heister

  Another couple of minutes slipped by as Jason waited for his head to clear. Frequent back-and-forth jumps made him dizzy, and the lack of his normal caffeine load gave him a headache. Cracking open the water, he gulped, draining half the bottle.

  He wasn’t sure what he expected to find inside the room, but when he made the next leap, another surprise smacked in the face. He was a dozen or so meters behind the soldier, walking down a massive tunnel. It led far past the Wingate property and was large enough for construction equipment to be parked along the sides. Freshly painted and clean, with lights every few meters along the walls, the guard’s boots ticked in the vast expanse.

  Jason ducked behind a robotic driller and waited for the guard to get far ahead. His tension and anxiety seized the muscles back in his real body, and a cramp gripped his calf. Serigala was doing far more than scientific research on this planet.

  When he regained his composure, he wandered further down the tunnel until it branched in two directions. Another sealed door blocked one side and the other stretched into the distance. The man was gone, but a few shadowed figures stood frozen near some equipment. He could refocus and catch up to the man, but Jason was more interested in poking around for the moment.

  The corridor zigzagged and branched over and over for a seemingly endless distance. He came across several doors which had markings in a language Jason couldn’t read. With all the military equipment sitting around the complex, it spoke loudly of an impending invasion by Serigala. Dumbfounded in terror, he realized this planet was in serious trouble, and Jason might be the only one who knew.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  More time came and went, and Jason slept again. When he’d finally taken another look at where his jailer had gotten to, he found the soldier talking to companions inside a small barracks. More than a dozen men in Serigala uniforms lined the room, and he wasn’t able to stay more than a second.

  The stubble on his chin told him he’d been locked inside the room for at least two, maybe three days. He desperately wanted out. Alexandria seemed oblivious to their impending doom. More than Shimizu would die if a fleet of Serigala ships showed up to reinforce the ground forces already in place. The only weaponry Jason found were small arms so perhaps Serigala was still in the initial stages of setting up for the strike.

  He needed to talk to Stiles or Ambassador Tully. Even if he couldn’t get information to them, he wanted to know what the hell was happening outside. He used the bucket and put it in the furthest corner of the room, covering it with his empty food tray.

  Settling in again, he rolled his neck from side to side, getting a satisfying crack as a reward. He went back to work. Captain, oh Captain. Talk to me, Captain Stiles.

  Jason startled the shit out of the poor Captain when he popped into the embassy cafeteria. The man choked on his drink and quickly stood. “Prince Jason! What the hell?”

  “Steady, Captain.” Jason put a hand on his elbow and pulled him down, quickly sitting next to him. “This is the Mirre. I don’t have time to explain everything to you. What is going on?”

  The Captain’s mouth slung open, and his eyes darted around the room. He looked about as bad as Jason felt. Wrinkled uniform and unshaven, Stiles hadn’t slept much since Jason’s disappearance. Hollow eyes with deep circles made the man look tired and used. When he spoke, Stiles did it under his breath, trying not to move his mouth. “Is everyone in here going to think I’m crazy and talking to myself? I wouldn’t blame them considering the stress I’ve been under.”

  Jason rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to spend the next fifteen minutes explaining something to a mind that wouldn’t exist after he left. “Don’t worry about everyone else. Talk to me. Do you know where I am?”

  Jason sent up a prayer, thanking the gods of military training. Captain Stiles adjusted to the situation and laid out the details of their side of the events. “We know Wingate’s people took you. One of the men Shimizu killed had a Serigala Marine tattoo. We’re acting under the assumption they have you with Dr. Wilkes. Glad to see you alive, sir.”

  One of the men? Well, at least she’d been able to do that much. Certainly more than himself. “One? How many did she kill before they got her?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I should’ve known better than to only assign you a single guard. She shot two of them, but the others beat the hell out of her. It looked like they kicked her into unconsciousness before they took you. Left her for dead.”

  “Unconscious? Is she still alive?”

  “Oh. Yes, sir.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair. “The doctors had to replace part of her spine and put her in a medically induced coma. They brought her back out this morning, but she’s still a mess.”

  A wave of relief washed over Jason. His real body hyperventilated with excitement. Linking to someone while they were asleep, he’d done plenty of times, but he’d never tried someone in a coma. “Best news I’ve heard in days, Captain.” He shook the man’s shoulder wildly while grinning from ear to ear. “Best damn news in the world.”

  Jason went on to explain the tunnel system he’d found underneath level seven. Captain Stiles listened with thoughtful deliberation and rubbed his chin. “Yes, yes.” He spoke almost to himself. “That would explain a few things going on here, sir.”

  “What? What’s going on out there?” Frantic for news, Jason couldn’t gather the information fast enough.

  The Captain straightened his back. “Well, sir. For one, Ambassador Tully received a message today from the government of Alexandria. They’ve invited us to leave. Not just the embassy staff but everyone from Rhime is to leave the planet. Other embassies received the same or similar message. Also, there are several dozen ships coming in fast from the other side of the system.”

  “Oh, God. It’s Serigala, isn’t it? Where did they come from?”

  “They came into the system at the Santiago IV node point. They’re running silent, so we can’t confirm who they are, sir. But at a guess, I’d say, yes.”

  “Where’s Santiago? Why not come in through one of the Alexandria nodes?”

  “Santiago is in this system and doesn’t get a lot of traffic, sir. If they came in through Alexandria, they’d need to explain the presence of military ships hovering around the planet while they massed, and someone would’ve locked the nodes after more than three or four. From Santiago, they could bring them in individually and move away without attracting too much attention. Santiago might be on a lockdown at this point, but it will take time to find out.”

  “So if the embassy people are being asked to leave, someone inside the Alexandria government is working with them? Has the President made any announcements?” Jason had a vague idea this planet had Presidents.

  “There’s been nothing released to the population, my Prince. Everyone I usually contact in the Alexandria chain of command is avoiding me.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Doesn’t that suggest cooperation between Alexandria and Serigala?” Which might also explain how Wingate knew Jason was on the planet. Stiles had been talking to all sorts of people in the Alexandria government.

  “Yes, sir. We’ve discussed that. Though, it might not be willing cooperation. Alexandria couldn’t hold back the smallest of invasions.”

  Something about this didn’t make sense. If they had such an easy time getting soldiers on the ground, why send a fleet of ships before they had weapons to outfit them? Martin’s steady instruction came to mind. Analyze dammit. Find the logic. “Who the hell is dumb enough to take over a planet while it’s still being made suitable for humans? Far more cost-effective to let someone else pay for the terraforming before attacking.”

  The Captain let out a heavy breath. “I don’t know about cost-effective, but Alexandria is close to the center of the Nexus. If Serigala could take over the planet, they could use it as a staging ground to more valuable planets.”

  Jason leaned back and yawned, making the Captain do the sam
e. “So, what has the ambassador done about all of this?”

  “She’s still trying to get through to someone in the government. She’s ordered non-essential personnel to start packing.”

  Alarmed, Jason shot back, “She’s giving up?” Besides all of those helpless Herodian embryos, Jason didn’t like the idea of running away from the situation if he could help Alexandria. Running away was exactly what got him into this mess, he wouldn’t do it again.

  Stiles opened a palm to Jason. “Don’t be hard on her, sir. We don’t have the resources to stop dome security if they really wanted to come in here. I’ve already requested that my team be left behind until we get you out.”

  “You’re still planning the strike?”

  Finally, the Captain perked up enough in his dismay to sound firm. “Yes, sir. We’re not leaving you behind for those barbarians.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Please don’t get yourself killed for me.” It was a pointless thing to say to a faux Stiles.

  The Captain ran a discerning eye over Jason looking confused. “Sir? I might not be part of the Imperial Guards, but I am sworn to serve your family. I’d rather go out protecting you than stand around with my thumb up my ass.”

  Jason smiled at the man’s loyalty. “How about timing? How long before those ships get here?”

  “Hmm.” The Captain glanced at a clock. “About fifty-two hours, but we should have them identified by this time tomorrow after they pass a few buoys.”

  Jason wrinkled his brow in consternation. “Buoys? Aren’t those Alexandria’s buoys? How do you plan on getting the data?”

  “We have a few of our own sensors hidden out there.”

  “I see.” His father’s intelligence gathering program was probably intended to track competitors, but he could see how it could be useful in other ways. “I don’t suppose you could give me some hints on how to get out of a locked room?”

  The man seemed horrified by the idea. “Sir, please don’t go trying anything on your own. Even if you got out of the room, you’d still need to get out of the compound. Sit tight. We’ll get you rescued.”

  “Yea, yea.” Sit tight. Don’t do anything, sir. Don’t get in the way, my Prince. He felt like the prized pig at the fair. “You have anything else useful for me?”

  The man’s grin turned absolutely vulpine. “If you hear any loud explosions, you should probably duck.”

  “Ha.” A laugh escaped Jason. “Thanks, Captain.”

  Jason released the Mirre and went back to his body.

  He stared at his next meal. He stared at his empty bottle of water. He stared at his bucket. Mostly, he stared at blank walls. His head tilted at the wall he was sure was between Wilkes and himself. He could try the doctor again. See how much the man knew about the current situation.

  He turned to the other wall. What was behind that one? If the layout was the same as some of the other floors, it would be a closet. He stood and circled the room. He’d never thought of himself as particularly hyper but sitting in one room day after day with nothing to do made him want to move.

  He needed to get some blood pumping to his brain, so he did a set of push-ups and then switched to sit-ups. Back and forth, set after set as the day dragged on. He had to stop when his thirst had him feeling like aged parchment.

  Jason was up and pacing the room again when the guards showed up for the next round.

  “Step back from the door,” a voice thundered from the other side.

  Pumped and jittery, Jason grasped for some way of attacking. A moment later, the door opened, and without thinking through his actions, he picked up the bucket and splashed both men with his waste. Legs coiled into pistons, he rushed them, slamming the end of the bucket into Guard One’s nose.

  The second guard had been holding the fresh tray. It clattered to the ground as he jumped back in surprise and perhaps outraged disgust. “Oh, shit.” He sputtered and spit then wiped a hand across his sopping face.

  The soldier holding the nervion had gotten the full blast of piss and still been able to keep his grip. However, the broken nose was too much for him. Blood gushed, and the soldier wobbled backward. Jason charged and drove his head into the man’s gut. The guard’s hand must’ve flinched because the gun went off, sending a discharge of energy into his companion. Guard Two flopped to the ground gurgling and wriggling like a dying fish as Jason hit Guard One with his fist.

  It felt good, real good, to give these assholes a little payback.

  Well, it was thrilling until the man’s training took over. Guard One returned Jason’s punch with one to the stomach and then pulled him off balance. He bounced onto his back against the slippery floor with the wind knocked out of him. A steel-toed kick to the head came next.

  The soldier snarled in something Jason assumed was whatever language they spoke on Serigala. Braided cords of muscle stuck out from the man’s neck as he yelled. From the revulsion on the guard’s face, Jason doubted he was getting compliments on his daring and bold tenacity.

  Guard Two continued to thrash, making high-pitched squeaks and gasping sounds.

  Hovering over Jason, the outraged and very damp guard pointed his weapon between Jason’s eyes. “I should kill you for that, you pegog eater.” Spittle flew out of the man’s mouth as he spoke — hatred dripping from every word.

  Jason didn’t need to know what a pegog eater was to get the point. In any case, he could only stare at the shiny coils sticking out from the end of the gun. Gleaming tendrils of death tossed minuscule blue sparks back and forth between the tips.

  “The moment the Marshal doesn’t think you’re useful anymore, I’m coming back here.” A booted foot went into Jason’s stomach, and he coughed with the pain of broken ribs. “Get back!”

  Unable to catch his breath, it took a moment for him to stand. The guard helped him by shoving his foot against his ass, pushing him back into the cell. Jason went down on his knees still unable to inhale properly.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Fortunately for Jason, the fresh bottle of water bounced inside the room, and the bucket had only held urine. Unfortunately, the bucket had stayed outside of the room, and he now felt the urge to use it again. Possibly for more than piss.

  This was the second time this trip he ended up smelling like a litter box. Sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, he banged his head against his boundaries. The hollow thump was oddly satisfying, so he did it again.

  Well, it’d been a stupid thing to try. Captain Stiles was right. Even if he got past the guards, he’d never get out of the building. Jason checked his scraped knuckles. His punch must’ve landed against something metal on the guard’s uniform. Spilling a few drops of water on his hands, he cleaned them as best as he could. The hit probably hurt his hand more than the soldier.

  That was the first real scuffle he’d even gotten into. He’d been given some rudimentary self-defense training, but everyone treated him with kid-gloves back home, so he’d never really been challenged. He could almost taste the swarm of testosterone pulsing through him. He wanted to grunt and throttle something with his hands. Something small that couldn’t fight back. Never mind, in all likelihood, an animal would pee on him.

  “Aw, shit,” he muttered to himself and jerked his head back into the wall again. This time, he hit hard enough to make a dent.

  A dent.

  Jason got to his feet and faced the wall. With the adrenaline of the fight still in him, he pulled his leg back and kicked. Okay, that was another bad idea. He didn’t have shoes, and his toes crunched against the drywall. He’d made another dent but ended up hobbling around the room with a broken toe. On the bright side, maybe he hadn’t broken a rib, perhaps only a crack. His breathing was getting easier.

  Trying again, he got down on all fours and did a backwards kick like a donkey. More drywall cracked, but a spike of pain shot through his ribs. With a few more anguished kicks he’d made a big enough hole to get his hands inside to rip the drywall out. Behind the w
all lay a solid sheet of material that seemed part metallic and part ceramic with little-multicolored lines of wires spider-webbing throughout.

  It’d been too simple of a solution. Just for kicks, he tried the wall leading to the next room. After about a half hour of ripping and tearing, he found himself inside the utility closet, covered in sweat and wheezing with shortness of breath. The room didn’t have a way for a human to open it from this side. The robotic janitor inside the room only contained some useless cleaning supplies, but the trash receptacle it held in its belly made for a handy bathroom. If the thing was on a schedule, it might switch on and open the door for him.

  The opposite side of his pen held Wilkes's lab, and since the doctor was also a prisoner, that seemed pointless. The fourth wall was most likely up against rock or dirt. Between his damaged chest and the busted toe, it was too much for him to try again. Perhaps tomorrow. With resignation, he opened his meal and chewed the gritty bar.

  Maybe an hour went by. Then another. Bored out of his mind, Jason decided it was time for an update. Stiles or Tully this time?

  As it happened, he chose Tully, but since she was in her office with a shadowed Stiles, Jason went ahead and brought the Captain’s mind along for the ride.

  Ambassador Tully looked frazzled. Helping with the decampment, she was busy packing her memorabilia. From the bags under her eyes and disheveled appearance, she too hadn’t been sleeping during this mess. It took awhile for Jason to get through the usual rigamarole of Mirre explanation before the simulacrums stopped freaking out and talked to him.

  “Trust me,” Jason called a halt to their rantings. “I’m not here. You’re not here. Give me a damned update.”

  “Surrender, sir.” Tully visibly shook as she spoke.

  “Surrender? Who? What? How for God’s sake!” Jason found himself completely flummoxed.