Uprising of the Exiled (Splintered Galaxy Book 2)

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Twenty-one years…she groaned and then climbed out of the tub. Her soaking-wet body left behind a trail of water as she walked across the elaborate patterned tiles that led her to the exit of her bathing chamber. After drying her body off with the towel left by the servants, she placed the robe over her body and stood before a massive mirror that was located next to her canopy bed. She saw that her hair was still damp and uncombed; with the servants off, she’d have to handle styling her hair on her own. It won’t look as elegant as it normally did; rather, it would resemble how it was back when she was living in Las Vegas, trying her best to blend in with the humans. A tactic she planned to perform today, blending in with the common folk below.

  Her hands removed the human-made skirt and top she wore during her escape from Earth. She had mended it, as it was damaged because of the combat situations she found herself in, namely being held hostage by Radiance and human soldiers, one of whom turned out to be a Celestial Order member…Xyniea. In fact, Xyniea was the one who did the most damage to her outfit, ripping the top open during a stern interrogation.

  Kroshka sat down on her comfortable bed while she interacted with a small computer on her nightstand. She sent a coded message to Eeladen, inviting him to her chamber as soon as possible. On that note, she reviewed the coded message Onatiasha sent her prior to her leaving the system. It included contact instructions as to where and how to meet her contact, Fahia. She didn’t like Eeladen, but she was going to need his assistance with her plan. She then reclined to rest on the bed. The front of her robe was still open, exposing her partially naked body. She paid no mind to it, it was relaxing, and she felt free both mentally and physically. It was fueling her confidence, confidence she was going to soon need to speak with Onatiasha’s contact, Fahia. Being nervous making contact with a mysterious person could throw away a year’s worth of work tracking down the Celestial Order. Besides, Eeladen wouldn’t be here for a while; she had plenty of time to get up and get changed.

  … … …

  An hour passed, and Kroshka was now dressed, wearing the skirt and blouse she had from Earth. Over that, she wore a matching dark-blue hooded cloak, which shrouded much of her face when she pulled it down as far as she could. Beneath that was her red gem pendant, the orb within the center of it as of late began to glow more, emitting white light, she hoped that the dark color of the cloak would block out the pendant’s glow, but there was still a little of bit of light escaping. She’ll have to keep her hands closer to her chest should someone gaze directly at her.

  Eeladen made his appearance at last, signaling the door chime to her chamber as he got there. “Enter,” she said, and the guardian stepped in with a puzzled look on his face as he looked down at Kroshka.

  “Forgive me, I did not realize that it was you,” Eeladen said.

  “That is a good thing; few people will take notice of me.”

  “What people?”

  Kroshka’s finger pointed toward her living room window, to be exact, to the city below. “We will be venturing out into the streets today,” she said.

  “Out of the question,” he interjected. “Y’lin, your mother. She will have me executed for doing such a thing, especially after the attack.”

  She crossed her arms, staring upward at the tall young man. “I am going out there. You are my guardian, and you will protect me. If something were to happen to me, it is you who shall be executed.”

  “Unless the empress is fine with this, I will not go.”

  “Eeladen,” she softly said. “Do not make me repeat myself. You have to come with me, and you will not speak of this to anyone, not even my mother.” Eeladen’s reply was silence. Kroshka then began to raise her voice. “Do not make me order you, because I will!”

  He sighed while rolling his eyes. “Where exactly do you wish to go?”

  “South Norit district,” she replied. “And leave your armor; you too need to blend in.”

  … … …

  ►► Imperial Capital, Paryo

  ► Uemaesce System

  Kroshka and Eeladen along with a psionic and three others materialized from a bolt of blue teleportation light into the South Norit district. Large cities on Paryo typically employed psionic teleporters whose sole job was to perform site-to-site teleportation to anyone who requested it. The capital city had twelve platforms like this. Three on the western edge; three on the east; one directly in the center, which also happens to be where the imperial palace was located; along with two locations north and two south. Commuting across the city was a matter of visiting the closest teleport platform, transporting to the closest platform, then utilizing whatever rapid transit trains were available in that sector. South Norit district naturally was located around the southeast teleportation platform.

  Eeladen, as requested, dressed like a civilian, leaving behind his combat armor and replacing it with a pair of black slacks, and a low-cut V-neck top that exposed a large section of his upper chest. His sword remained at his side however, along with his arm-mounted shield emitter. After all, his job was still to protect her from any shady people. Kroshka was armed as well; within her purse rested a small battery pack and Phylarlie’s dagger.

  They stepped away from the platform and entered the district’s central area, a marketplace full of the sounds of merchants in front of their products, offering them to those with good standing within the empire. Some merchants offered goods in exchange for other items or services; typically, people with lower standing within the empire had to barter with those people for food and supplies. There was a light dusting of snow on the stone-and-marble constructed ground; the wind carried some of it in the air from time to time as it gusted through, and some of it tickled across Kroshka’s exposed legs. It was a refreshing feeling to her.

  They proceeded past the marketplace, and all the while Kroshka couldn’t help but look intently at the many people who worked or came here to acquire what they needed. She felt like she was on an alien world…life in the palace versus elsewhere was indeed different. The feeling she had was familiar, like when she was on Earth. Yes, this is exactly how she felt when she first stepped foot into Istanbul, the first human city she visited.

  Memories of her, Onatiasha, and Akeia dressed like humans walking through the Grand Bazaar came back into her thoughts. So many people crammed into one area, buying and selling, the only difference was humans used currency. She remembered Onatiasha standing by her side in same manner of Eeladen, dressed in plain clothes, but she kept a hidden sword and shield at her side just in case. All three of them wore shades to hide the fact that their iris color was different from that of humans. Akeia was gazing at some of the human women with lust burring in his eyes, much like how Kroshka peeked and smiled at some of the shirtless labors here as they restocked some of the kiosks.

  If mother truly wanted her to take a Hashmedai partner, she should have brought someone like the common men out here into the palace to meet her. Strong, independent, they worked hard to make a living, not knowing what the future held for them, and they viewed a young attractive woman like Kroshka as a mate they would never be able to have. She wanted that type of man in her arms. She wanted to be a rare prize to be won. Men of noble houses? They were just not up for that. They expected everything to be given to them because of who they were.

  The two later entered a small eating area where tired shoppers took a break and drank soup—narmin wing soup by the smell of it. Its sweet and spicy aroma entered the noses of everyone who got close. This was a good sign; the person serving the soup should lead the way, if the information Onatiasha transmitted to her computer was correct. The challenging part began—getting in. Those who wished to enter had to scan their implant at the gates leading into the eatery. If your standing was good, the gates opened; otherwise, they remained locked, barring one from entering. Kroshka had no implant. She was royalty, after all. She got anything she wanted, and she rarely left the palace.

  She signaled for Eeladen to step forward an
d scan his implant to enter. His large arm rose up toward the scanning device. Seconds later, a beep emitted, followed by a small holographic window displaying in the Hashmedai language that he and one guest were accepted. Among the many perks of having a high standing within the empire was the ability to have a guest come in without the need to scan.

  A line formed in which fifteen or so people waited to have soup served to them. Kroshka and Eeladen turned that number into seventeen or so. She saw that most of the tables were fully occupied, many with entire families sitting at them. Some people in this region didn’t have the equipment needed to cook or store food because of low standing, and so they relied on places like this for food.

  Minutes passed, and the line finally shrank enough for the two of them to be served. Three pots of warm soup were being poured to those who were ready to be served. Kroshka stepped up and made her request. “I will take narmin wing soup with extra yeli spices.”

  “We don’t have any yeli spices, sadly,” said the vendor.

  Kroshka leaned in closer and said. “Really? I was told you carried them here.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Iolysta did.”

  The soup vendor grinned at her and then said. “I see. Well, I’ll look into that. For now, take this.” A bowl of soup was poured and offered to Kroshka and then another to Eeladen.

  As they left with their meals in hand, a tall woman with black hair and pale skin, looked directly at the two, and waved her hand for them to join her at her table. As they sat down, the woman directly faced Kroshka and asked. “So you requested yeli spices?”

  “Among other things,” Kroshka replied with a grin.

  “I don’t recognize you,” the woman said while looking at Kroshka. She then stared at Eeladen in a similar manner. “Don’t recognize you, either. Are you new?”

  “A friend told me about you,” said Kroshka. “Fahia, I presume?”

  The woman nodded to her, then said. “Finish your soup and then meet me by the exit.” Fahia got up from her seat, and walked toward the entrance to wait.

  Kroshka’s hand guided her spoon into the bowl of soup, and eagerly awaited the chance to consume something that was made by a commoner rather than a carefully selected chef. Several spoons later, Eeladen broke his silence and asked. “What is going on?”

  Kroshka calmly spoke. “As I said earlier, mention this to no one, not even my mother.”

  … … …

  ►► ESV Winston Churchill, Earth Orbit

  ► Sol System

  A stretcher carrying the motionless body of Psionic Za Michei rushed into the central infirmary aboard the ESV Winston Churchill. Unlike the main one located in the habitat ring, this one was found in the central section of the main fuselage of the ship in a zero-gravity environment. Since the habitat ring was separated from the rest of the ship via a lengthy elevator ride, use of the central infirmary was limited to emergencies, it being easier to access.

  Ella floated in seconds after Michei was transferred in. She wore a blue operation gown, gloves with a medial scanner in hand, and a puzzled look as the other doctors seemed to be clueless as what to do.

  “What happened?” Ella asked.

  ESV Winston Churchill’s chief of medicine, Dr. Gordon Pike, replied, “He fought another psionic down below.”

  Chris, who floated from behind and watched helplessly, added, “He was fine for a bit but then became unresponsive during the transport ride up.”

  “I was afraid something like this would happen,” Dr. Pike said.

  “What?” asked Ella as she passed her medial scanner over Michei’s battered body.

  “He’s a Rabuabin. We know nothing about their anatomy,” Pike said.

  “Seriously?”

  “Treating aliens wasn’t exactly covered in med school.”

  They need to update the programs; the humans living in Alpha Centauri are trained to work with all Radiance races. “That must be a real comfort to all the non-Linl psionics we have serving aboard our ships!” Ella gently brushed Pike aside, while continuing her scans of his body. A holographic window loaded in front of her, displaying Michei’s condition. “I’ll handle things from here, Doctor.”

  … … …

  ►► Port Shala, Morutrin Prime

  ► Morutrin System

  Loud, irritating music; drunk Linl and Hashmedai moving their bodies in a manner that was considered to be dancing; and bright flashing lights—Avearan hated this place. But it was the only place in the city where drinks were cheap, yet good. She may have had many credits at her disposal, but they weren’t unlimited; the less she spent, the better off she’d be in the future if she found herself needing to spend a lot of them at once.

  The atmosphere of the club was indeed an interesting one, Hashmedai and Linl not giving a damn about the difference between their species. A young Linl female and a Hashmedai male danced and grinned together like there was nothing wrong with it. An Aryile bartender, who was also a psionic, impressed a group of Hashmedai and Linl with her abilities to mix and serve drinks with her telekinetic gifts. Avearan didn’t pay too much attention to the performance. At the end of the day, it was an Aryile, a vile scaly creature, as far as she was concerned. She went so far as to speak with the Hashmedai bartender for her drinks, just so she could say that an Aryile didn’t serve her.

  Another drink went down her throat; they weren’t working as she had hoped. The chilling memories of that gem. Those women, switching bodies with human females—the drinks weren’t making her forget at all. Worst of all, Avearan still didn’t find a buyer for the gem; she was driving a hard bargain for it. It was powerful, after all, not your typical piece of jewelry; as much as she wanted to get rid of it quickly, she didn’t want to sell herself short.

  … … …

  Unknown to the rest of the crowd at the bustling club where Avearan sat and drank, Phylarlie stalked her target while in her psionically enhanced stealth mode. She considered her options: move in and make a quick kill? Easy, but with all these people, someone was going to try to intervene, in which case she’d have to kill him or her too, and then there’s the law enforcement in this area. While the Morutrin was mostly lawless, it had once been a region of space controlled by the old Linl government. Large cities like this were built back in those days, and Linl exiles who refused to join the Radiance Union did what they could to maintain the old Linl laws in places such as this. Simply put, assassination was considered to be murder; the Linl law enforcers didn’t care if the empire sanctioned it or not.

  The best way to kill someone out here was to drag him or her into a region of the planet or system where the law didn’t apply. Jazz and Veloshira took full advantage of that while living here. Phylarlie wasn’t the waiting type, not for an assignment like this. The longer she wasted time on this, the longer it would take her to track down Noylarlie’s current location. She had so much to say to her long-lost younger sister—and to apologize for.

  She shook her head, bringing her thoughts back into the situation at hand. Right, Avearan. Phylarlie’s hands wrapped around the hilts of her psionic daggers. If Avearan’s shields were down, she should be able to charge and sink the blades into her without having to exit her stealth state, thus avoiding identification. She made her approach toward the bar, doing everything she could to avoid coming into contact with partygoers. They may have been drunk, but one of them was bound to notice bumping into an invisible person on the dance floor.

  Avearan’s exposed back was toward Phylarlie. Before she began her assault, Phylarlie extended one finger out toward Avearan, a test to see if her shields were active.

  They were.

  Small purple ripples splashed out from where Phylarlie’s finger went in, causing Phylarlie to grit her fangs. Who the fuck has shields up while relaxing and drinking? How paranoid can you be? Avearan’s body instinctively spun on her stool toward Phylarlie’s general direction. She must have sensed her shields being poked, Phylarlie figured. />
  Phylarlie quickly backpedaled seconds before Avearan’s hand reached out in front of her, hoping to touch an invisible person. Smart, very smart, Phylarlie thought as her silent footsteps sidestepped her toward her back once again while Avearan remained glaring at the space Phylarlie’s invisible body had just occupied. Phylarlie’s nimble hands raised her psionic twin daggers into the air, ready to make a downward stab and then began to channel her psionic mind toward her blades, causing them to heat up.

  She had no idea how much psionic power was going to be needed to break Avearan shields, or if she had enough to break through them with one thrust. Psionic shields were the worst to deal with; it all depended on how strong or weak the psionic you were fighting was. Phylarlie waited, and focused several seconds longer, gaining a full charge to her blades, and hoped it would be enough.

  Her cloak began to flicker; too much mental power was being transferred. She now found herself translucent in the same manner Jazz and Veloshira would be if they used a cloaking device; her psionics were being strained. She hoped that the flashing lights in the club would provide just enough of a distraction for people not to notice the distortion field around her body. She plunged her daggers down, just as Avearan’s body spun back around to her original spot, laying eyes on Phylarlie’s silhouette.

  Chaos ensued.

  Chapter 19

  Noylarlie could only hear the sound of her heels tap against the floor as she walked through the throne room of the Hashmedai imperial palace. Not even the stream of water that flowed underneath the small bridge leading to the empress’s throne could be heard. Which brought to her attention another fact; Empress Y’lin was not on her throne…there was someone else. A human woman or perhaps Linl? No, had to be human. The black dress she wore gave it away. Linl don’t design clothing like that, only humans.

  Noylarlie’s legs carried her closer to the throne, curious as to why a human was sitting on it. As she got closer, the human woman looked forward, making direct eye contact with Noylarlie. The woman’s hands rose up, slicking back her long black hair, then she spoke in the Hashmedai language. “Noylarlie, it’s been so long.” The woman’s hands left the top of her head and lowered to flaunt her appearance and womanly figure. “What do you think? I’m all grown up now.”