by Yakov Merkin
“So, if you would each take a vow to not divulge any of what I will say to anyone, then we can continue.”
Kiari spoke first, as always. “Khiya il’Felisihu, khyia il’Felikhar. K’elat pakid, Srei Felitzvah.” My life for the Omnipresent, my life for Felinar. It is yours to command, Grand Admiral. One of the most powerful and encompassing oaths a Felinaris soldier could make.
On by one, each of the others repeated the oath. Finally, Nayasar stood and repeated it as well, then sat back down and re-crossed her legs. “So, where to begin? I think I’ll start with the reasons for the calls. I learned only hours ago, from Executor Darkclaw himself, that since he first approached our people for an alliance, he has been lying to us. His mysterious High Lord intends on subjugating us as well as the Alliance once we’ve outlived our usefulness. Fortunately, Darkclaw has decided to choose us over him, and find a way to kill the High Lord. This does not concern you, but it’s something you all have to know and keep quiet about, in order for my plan to make sense.” Fortunately, everyone held their tongues.
“Additionally, the executor’s newfound loyalties and emotions have led him to choose to end the war as soon as the High Lord is dead. This is not acceptable to me, as eight out of the original twelve masterminds of the Selban Massacre are still alive and well, safely deep within Alliance space. In all likelihood, peace would mean they never see justice. I cannot accept this, and I will not live in a galaxy where such evil can go unpunished. This is why I have decided that it is worthwhile for me to abandon my post to see that these kerakhil are killed.” Nayasar paused for breath, and tried to gauge the reactions of her team. Some, like Nirra and Tzalaf, were unreadable, but Bohdan and Kiari were both nodding. Both of them had grown up in Selban.
“I mean for us to depart within the hour. I have secured a prototype Night’s Grasp-class infiltration vessel, equipped with both stealth and new cloaking technologies. All of you will find that you’re officially on leave for the day, so you shouldn’t be questioned when you gather your gear and rendezvous on the Selban, where our ship is docked. No one on that ship will question us.
“So, now that I’ve been here monologueing for a while, does anyone have questions? Now is the time.” Nayasar felt an enormous weight lift off her chest, though Darkclaw would likely be furious. The thought almost made her laugh, particularly because the Tyrannodon actually would be furious, now that he had outed himself as capable of feeling emotion.
“Do you intend for us to carry out all of these assassinations in one run?” Mir asked. “Because if we’re going to be leaping around deep within Alliance space for weeks, we’re going to have supply issues.”
“I don’t foresee us killing them all in one go,” Nayasar replied. “I don’t intend on being away for more than a few days at a time, simply because the longer we’re gone, the more suspicious it will be. After the near disaster at Darvia, our offensive will be at a slower pace. With a little luck and the Omnipresent’s help, we might not be missed at all.”
Flis glanced around at the group, then finally shrugged and spoke. “It doesn’t seem like we have any real questions; we’re all fully committed, and I think we all trust your planning. My only question is a purely cosmetic one. Is this little kill-team going to have a name?”
Nayasar thought for a moment. In all of the passion that had gone into the idea of forming this team, doing the right thing at any cost, she had neglected to even name the operation, as it was never going to be officially recorded. All she wanted to do was to see justice carried out. Then an idea hit.
“As it happens, I do. We will be called the Maviiri Detzak.” The Bringers of Justice.
“To the Maviiri Detzak then,” Commander Roah abruptly said, rising from her seat, taking a knife from her belt and raising it into the air. Her face still stoic, she went on. “We will show the galaxy that there is a heavy price to pay for our blood! I am with you to the end, Srei Felitzvah.”
The declaration elicited a brief cheer from the rest of the team, and Nayasar had to smile. Finally, she would be able to put the screaming souls to rest.
“So,” Nayasar said as she stood up, “go gather anything you might need. I’ll see you all in docking bay eight on the Selban in forty minutes.”
The room began to clear quickly, several of Maviiri Detzak’s members pausing to shake Nayasar’s hand or give her a pat on the shoulder before leaving. Before long, only Nayasar and Davir were still in the room.
“Anything you want to say?” she asked. He was clearly lingering for a reason.
“Not much,” he said. “We are doing the right thing, avenging the dead, doing it this way. The Scriptures would agree, though we are putting ourselves in extra danger. No, my only concern is that we do not lose ourselves to a singular goal. It can happen easily, and we must remember that we are not doing this for our own personal gain, but for the honor and safety of our people. I’ve seen it happen, and I’ll do what I can to prevent it here, but ultimately it’s up to each one of us.”
Does he know? Nayasar wondered. The ultra religious were said to be very perceptive, but Nayasar had never taken much stock in such bits of ‘common knowledge’. No, he couldn’t know. That was just a bit of paranoia stemming from the stress. Felivas was the only one who knew how distraught she had been after the Selban Massacre, and again after Darkclaw’s revelation; and he certainly hadn’t told anyone. No, Davir was just acting like Davir, always worrying about keeping everyone safe.
“It’s not a problem,” she said, “not something to worry about. I’m fine,” she assured him.
Davir smiled. “I never asked if you were fine,” he said in far too knowing a tone, then left the room, the door hissing shut behind him.
Nayasar shook her head. There were enough things to worry about without suspecting her teammates learning things they shouldn’t. She glanced around the empty room once, then exited the room. There was a lot to do, and a lot of people to kill.
* * *
“Target in sight,” Tzia said over the team’s secure comm network. “No security I can see, but there’s a police station less than five minutes away by duster, less by a proper flying vehicle,”
“Understood,” Nayasar replied, still as a statue in her perch on the roof of a single-story building across from the office of Ziran Serak, a Cytan businessman who had provided huge amounts of money for the Selban operation, purely as a means of revenge on a Felinaris private investigator, who was also the relative of a competitor, who’d exposed fraud Serak was committing against the Alliance Assembly. Petty revenge, which succeeded when the Felinaris investigator and his entire family were killed in the bloodbath, and the business in question was hit very hard. The blue rock had even had the gall to make a joke about the deaths less than a week after, a remark recorded by a corporate spy under the Felinaris government’s employ. It might have been impossible for Felinaris to move unnoticed through Alliance space, but there were always people willing to spy, if the pay was right.
“Team One, begin to move in on the target. Team Two, remain on alert. If you spot any security forces approaching, or see anyone, I repeat anyone, who could potentially raise an alarm, eliminate them. Nothing gets in the way of the mission.”
“Understood, Srei Maviiri,” affirmed High Captain Vitrek, the leader of Team Two. “We’ll handle anything that comes out way. Tzalaf is covering the main entrance and the office floor.”
“Very good,” Nayasar said. “Remember; remain in camouflage at all times. As soon as I confirm the target is slashed, everyone report to the rendezvous point just outside the town for pickup.”
“Confirmed,” he replied.
Nayasar switched her internal communication channel to broadcast only to Team One. “Team One, on me,” she ordered.
Nayasar stood up, then leaped off the building, landing ten feet below in a crouch. After checking to be sure her stealth field was still active, she flagged a meet up point for her team on their battle network, then began to s
lowly make her way there. The stealth field generators were one of the fun new toys that this operation had given her a chance to try out. It essentially worked as active camouflage, allowing the user to perfectly blend in with their surroundings, so long as they did not move too quickly. It was connected to the armor’s shield generator, extending the camouflage over the same radius as the shield, covering both the wearer and anything they were carrying.
A few minutes later, Nayasar reached the service entrance to the office building. She checked the battle network, which showed her that her team, consisting of Flis, Tzia, Tresken and Kiari, were all converging on her position.
“One camera,” she said, pointing upward slowly at the simple security camera pointed at the door.
“Got it,” Tresken replied, any of the playfulness he normally showed gone as he was focused on doing his job.
Once he arrived, he used his armor’s advanced multitool system to hack into the camera, fooling it to think the door was staying closed, even when the team entered through it. “Disabling alarm system,” he added a moment later, then less than a minute later, “Done. All clear.”
“Advance,” Nayasar ordered. “Avoid contact with anyone aside from the target at all costs, but do not hesitate to kill any who might discover our presence.”
The killing of Serak would likely be the easiest of the eight operations, which was why Nayasar had elected to go after him first, as a sort of trial run for the team she had assembled. Serak’s base of operations was on Kidor, a moon orbiting the planet Desrik, one of three inhabited worlds in the Tarin system, all originally Tehlman colony worlds that attracted many businesses due to the cheap real estate and distance from the seat of Alliance power. The moon was completely owned by Serak, though there was a fairly large population, primarily families of employees, organized around his central compound.
Here was his most secure location, extremely well protected… from the outside. Once past the outer protection, there was next to nothing. Whether it was overconfidence or a concession to the people who lived within the compound, Nayasar didn’t care. But it did make their job almost laughably easy, with Mir easily dropping the team off inside the compound. It also helped that the Tarin system was in the section of the Alliance cut off from the rest due to the war, though it had not surrendered yet.
Nayasar opened the door slowly, a wise choice, she realized, as the door squeaked even when moved slowly. So much for taking care of his own property. Nayasar didn’t pause, and continued up the stairs. The team would be right behind. The floors in the service stairwell weren’t numbered, so Nayasar counted to twelve as she climbed, stopping at the landing. She glanced behind her, picking out the faint shimmers of her team just behind her. This was it.
She drew her pistol, silenced for the mission, and waited by the locked door. Tresken was there a moment later, and before long he said, “It’s open, manual only.”
“Thanks,” Nayasar replied. The last thing they wanted was the door automatically opening all the way. That could attract unwanted attention.
Nayasar pressed a hand against the door, and pressed hard, then slid it open a crack. She glanced through, at the hallway ahead. It was empty. She slid the door open just enough so she could fit through, and stepped into the brightly lit hallway. It was a typical corporate building: simple, white walls, next to no furnishings. Nayasar didn’t pause, and began to move through the hallway; there was no need for a map, she’d memorized what they’d need on the flight over.
It was a long, slow walk to Serak’s office, which was on the opposite side of the building from the service entrance, made all the slower by the need to stay hidden. The team fortunately didn’t encounter too many people, and were able to maneuver so that the few they did see walked right past, not noticing a thing.
Several agonizingly slow minutes later, Nayasar arrived at Serak’s office, the door marked with his name in Tehlman script. This was it. “Once we’re inside, Kiari, secure the target and keep him quiet. Flis, Tzia, secure the door. Tresken, disable anything the target might use to call for help.” They all noted their understanding, then Nayasar slowly turned the knob on the old-fashioned style door, and opened it enough to slip through.
Serak sat at his desk, deeply engrossed in something on his computer monitor. Faint green light pulsed in his blue crystalline body—at least what parts of it were visible, such as his exposed arms and through transparent parts of his clothing, indicative of the middle class status he had been born into before he had risen to success.
He glanced up as Tzia shut and locked the door behind the team, and was about to speak before Kiari, still invisible, grabbed him from behind and clamped a hand over Serak’s mouth, or rather the part of the Cytan face that sound came from.
Nayasar walked to stand over Serak, just across the desk, then deactivated her stealth field. His eyes widened satisfactorily, and his body’s glow brightened, as it did when a Cytan was feeling a particularly strong emotion. Most Cytan were capable of controlling the reflex so that they couldn’t be read easily. Serak clearly was not among them.
“Hello, Ziran,” Nayasar said venomously, calling the Cytan by his first name. That often made people uncomfortable. “You will answer my questions. Any attempt to scream and you’re dead. Understand?”
Serak nodded as best he could, with Kiari’s hand holding his head.
“Do you have any idea why we’re here?” Nayasar asked, then nodded to the still invisible Kiari, who took her hand off of Serak’s face.
“I—I have no idea,” he fumbled. “I’m not affiliated with the Alliance government. Your war’s with them, Felinaris.”
“Wrong answer,” Nayasar said, and landed a backhanded punch on Serak’s face. “Selban sound familiar to you?”
Serak recoiled. “What? Selban? I’ve never killed anyone in my life! I’m just an honest businessm—”
“Oh, cut the izval you glowing rock. We know what you did, and why you did it. Maybe we need to remind you,”
Nayasar entered a command into her armor’s multitool system, and a recording began to play. “I wonder how Eleras Incorporated is doing this week?” said Serak’s unmistakably ethereal voice. “Their stock’s taken quite a few hits this week, courtesy of our Darvian friends!”
Serak’s eyes somehow widened even more. “That wasn’t me!” he pleaded. “I’d never—”
“Willing to stake your life on it?” Nayasar interrupted, drawing one of her long knives.
“Alright, alright!” Serak exclaimed. “So I gave some crazy people some money to hit a rival. I didn’t know they were going to kill anyone, honest! I just wanted a little payback. It’s not like I actually shot—”
Nayasar thrust her weapon forward, catching the Cytan on the underside of his angular head, skewering his internal voicebox and silencing him. “Now now, what did I tell you about lying, Ziran?” she asked.
Serak wasn’t dead yet. He wasn’t even dying. Cytan were notoriously difficult to kill, owing to their unusual physiology. Even forgetting the fact that their bodies were made of a tough, crystalline substance, they didn’t have vital organs and blood in the same way more species did. Their brain was the only truly squishy part of them; they were kept alive by a series of complex chemical reactions inside their bodies. Nayasar didn’t know the science behind it, but she didn’t care. All she needed to know was how to kill them. And to do that she would have to either completely cut Serak to pieces or make precise, deep cuts and hold him still so he couldn’t try to close them. That would cause whatever it was that kept him alive to fail. And it would make him die a slower, more painful death. Nayasar didn’t have a problem with that.
Nayasar pulled the blade out of Serak’s damaged voicebox and sliced first his neck open, then his chest through the rich clothing he wore, followed by both of his wrists.
Serak struggled against Kiari’s grip as his life began to slowly slip away from him, his eyes going wild, his body glowing so brightly it was almost
blinding. But Nayasar did not look away. Images of the aftermath of the massacre filled her head, then the screaming souls, snuffed out with no warning. I may have failed you, she said to the dead, but I have not forgotten, and I will avenge you.
It took several minutes, but finally Serak’s light went out and he stopped struggling. Nayasar motioned to Kiari to let go, and then Nayasar drove her knife through the back of Serak’s head and into his brain. No amount of medical intervention could save him now.
“Uh, Srei Felitzvah,” Tresken said a few seconds later. “I’m picking up a lot of comm traffic nearby. I think people are aware of his death, or at least that something has happened. We should go.”
Nayasar nodded. “We go in thirty seconds.” There was still one more thing to do.
She leaned over Serak’s lifeless body, held knife near its tip, and etched into his crystalline head the distinctive, twisted symbol for a durram, the standard monetary unit in Alliance space.
“Let’s go,” she said, just as she heard knocking on the door. Nayasar reactivated her stealth field, sheathed her knife and held her pistol ready.
“Dar Serak?” a Cytan asked though the locked door. “Sir? Are you alright?”
Nayasar sent a brief order for the team to stand to the sides of the door, then had Flis unlock it.
Immediately three workers, a Cytan and two Tehlmans, sprung into the room, then froze when they saw Serak lying dark and lifeless in his chair.
Nayasar hesitated for a split second before giving the order to shoot, which gave one of the Tehlmans just enough time to start shouting into his wrist-mounted communication device before silenced pistols ended the three of them.
Nayasar bit back a growl. She shouldn’t have hesitated! “To the rendezvous!” she ordered sharply. “We stop for nothing.”
With that, she dashed into the hallway and began to run back the way they had come. The team had barely made it ten meters when alarms began to blare, and people began spilling out into the hallways to see what was happening.