by Reiter
“Quite right, Lord Eveentoos. Quite right… again!” Deactivating the map, Virgil pressed his earlier inquiry. “But the price-point, sir!”
“A consequence in the maintenance of our profile, good Virgil,” Austin answered. “With the amount of money we spent, these former zealots are more likely to remember the amount than they will recall who exactly signed the transfer order.
“Besides, it isn’t really lost,” Austin pointed out as he started looking over the data regarding the specimens retrieved from the debris field. “That fighter escort was very expensive for our dear guest, and they were backed by the Imperial Garrison. It was the pirates, after all, who stole the money of the good Master Nefferek while he was in the company and guard of Imperial Troops. The throne will be only too happy to return ninety percent of those lost funds to the good man’s estate just to keep word of the event to a minimum. Yes, trust me, Virgil, this was well worth the cost.”
“Because…”
“The recruiting for Tau Upsilon was one of the most aggressive campaigns the Rims have seen since the formation of the Terran Triangle,” Austin sited. “They spent vast amounts of money on the development of their ranks. That sort of wealth attracts the best of the worst. And after that, the best of the best, who do not want to see newfound territories fall into the hands of well-paid ne’er-do-wells. The end result: a very formidable army manned by the most eager and talented of the region. The perfect place for us to do our shopping, and so much simpler than arranging for an interplanetary war!
“Even with the lack of time to respond to the attack, let’s see if we can find one of the staunch military types who might have made it to a vehicle, but still perished when their planet was destroyed.”
Virgil smiled before stepping forward. “That search has already been performed,” he reported. “Four such individuals were found in the debris field: three men and one woman.
“Four!” Austin sang. “How very apocalyptically poetic of them! Please continue.”
“The cellular mapping process has already been initiated,” Virgil reported as the pictures for the four were projected in front of Austin.
“It is with endless joy that I continue to cheat death only to find that life still finds a way to surprise me, Austin thought as he looked at the four people. Fortune was more than smiling at him, she had handed him the keys to the quadrant. There was something to all four of them. They were not meager by any means and it did not hurt matters that three of the four were incredibly comely.
“DNA and RNA composition will take approximately thirty-seven months,” Virgil estimated. “… once we return to the main facility.”
The one who was the least attractive, though far from being unattractive, was physically superior to the rest, and even dead there was a sense of driving passion to him. “I have high hopes for you, my son,” Austin thought, moving on to the only female of the group. She too possessed something intangible that Austin perceived and was delighted to feel. “And I do not know what you possess, my sweet. But we shall explore the reaches of your existence together. Ahhh, the reconnaissance of the after-soul!”
“Lord Eveentoos,” Virgil called out. “We need to return to the mothership.”
“Then by all means,” Austin said, moving away from the readouts. “… let us make our way toward the Prism Baronies and once Mr. Nefferek has been set on his journey, we will return to the ship. There is much that must begin!”
** b *** t *** o *** r **
Freund opened his eyes, coming out of his meditative state with a start. He took hold of the table to verify his bearings and the impressions that had passed through the room.
“I’m here, Master,” Star Lark said softly as she quickly approached and took hold of his arm. He looked so frightened, so alone and for the first time… so very old. “Use my eyes if you need to.”
Freund gently put his hand to her face without error or probing. “Did I look that much a sight?” he asked and chuckled when she stammered at answering him. He took in a deep breath and thought of the first recital of Isse playing her flute. He recalled and replayed the music along with the setting of the crystal falls where a gentle and cool mist had ascended from the pool below, as if responding to her music. He allowed Lark to feel the moment with him and he could feel the grip on his arm tighten. He could hear her eyelids draw together as she came up from her heels and softly gasped. As the music and the scene caressed over them both, her muscles relaxed, but her grip remained, as now she needed the means to balance herself. “How do I look now?”
Tolarra opened her eyes and leaned her head into his palm and Freund’s calm demeanor was shaken. What he perceived through his touch was not what he expected, and it certainly was not what he had been looking to evoke in his herald. Still it was present and very powerful.
“Tolarra, I–” her hand touched lightly to his mouth and she smiled.
“Your Herald leads you, Master,” Tolarra said as she stepped closer to Freund. “Let me lead you to this.” She touched her lips lightly to his and he took a quick and firm grip of her shoulders. It was the first time his body did not surprise her. She knew he was stronger than she could ever be. “So many surprises you’ve endured, and we both know more are coming. Do they all have to be so bad?” She moved in for another kiss and Freund’s arms betrayed him. He received her kiss, and suddenly the somber sweetness of a tranquil scene was superseded. Had it been so long since the heaven of a lover’s touch had registered on him – and not through the witnessing of another’s thoughts… this touch was intended solely for him. The Guardian of Humanity found himself the plaything of another energy, a greater energy: his self-will! His arms wrapped around Tolarra as she took hold of the back of his head and the side of his face.
“Something has happened, Tolarra,” he projected. “Something unforeseen.”
“That’s the way of the universe, you incredible man,” she thought, kissing Freund even more deeply. “Let me show you something else unforeseen!” Their bodies pressed together and passion was set to burn its way to greater heights. But it had not escaped Freund’s notice that something had come about and from all places, Tau Upsilon. It was a soft light, however, not yet ready to be seen – it had not made its choices yet, but whichever way it turned, it would be a light no one would or could ignore… and it was growing aboard the same craft that now carried Baron Zoll. The light and the Baron would be denied a proper introduction, but this would certainly be the moment where they met.
Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend - or a meaningful day.
Dalai Lama
For the fifth star-term in a row, the buzzer sounded, waking most from their sleep. Dungias was already awake and had been meditating through most of the sleep cycle. Though it had only been covered in the verbal lessons delivered by Guyn, Dungias had been given a true-life opportunity to prove that the body heals faster when one meditates. His hands were no longer stiff and he could no longer see any signs of bruising on his knuckles. The same could not be said for the burn on his chest.
The comfortable seat in the shuttlecraft had served its purpose and started the process of getting Dungias to lower his guard. The voice he had heard while floating in the InterVoid and riding in the chair had done the rest. Whoever she was, she had used the soft tones of her voice to a very strong advantage. The pulse of energy was well-timed; coming after a series of blinding flashes and blaring sounds. Dungias was in no position to absorb anything, though he had remained conscious after the first pulse. The second had robbed him of feeling, and he only heard the third.
“We don’t get many Travelers around here,” she had said, and in retrospect, Dungias knew he should have suspected trouble then and there. He was too engaged with getting back to his home dimension and meeting with the Savanté once more; one of their number in particular.
“That too
was a lesson,” he thought. “Wasn’t it, Kynsada? Looking at the fourth obstacle, negotiating the fourth obstacle before the second had been taken.”
“You’re a male,” Kynsada had said, “so this won’t be easy for you to master.”
“It isn’t a problem for females?” Dungias had asked.
“Only when emotions are involved,” she had replied and quickly, demonstrating a strong measure of experience on the matter. “Believe me, that is another lesson. When you’re a Grandmaster, come find me.”
“Are you saying I need to be a Grandmaster before I can understand females?”
“Not at all,” she had said. “But when you’re a Grandmaster and what I have to tell you doesn’t register as sensible, you won’t mind so much.” Kynsada had smiled, which was a rare event and even more cherished because of the genuine light that shined whenever she did allow the emotion to register on her face. All in all, the lesson had been well taught, but forgotten nonetheless.
“Do yourself a favor,” Kynsada had suggested. “Make a very short list of the things you do, are, and represent. That is what you will stick to, what you will be!
“Everything that we’re teaching you,” she had stated. “… it just makes your coin three-sided.”
“A three-sided coin?” Dungias had asked.
“A-ha,” she had blurted as she pointed at him. “Show me a two-sided coin and I’ll show you a weapon.” Dungias had taken a coin from off his shelf and had presented it to Kynsada. She took it, smiled and set it down on the table, standing on its third side: its very slender edge. “That is all we are doing, Dungias. We are just showing you what has always been there. If you remember, the coin will fall to one side… if you don’t, it falls to the other. But if you’re as smart as the old Master Traveler believes you are, then this is what you’ll do.” Kynsada struck the coin and made it spin. As it spun, she had looked up at Dungias and gestured to the coin. “You’ll find the fourth side, the one that never changes because it is always changing!”
“I don’t feel as if I am that fourth side at the moment,” Dungias thought as he joined the line of those marching out of the holding cells. Everyone wore the same yellow, form-fitting bodysuits. The sleeves ended at the middle of the forearm where thin bracelets were adhered to the skin. The flashing lights told Dungias some sort of device was at work and inside the first star-term of wearing the uniform, he had learned the system within the suits could monitor a great many things, including elevated thought patterns indicative of sharp concentration. Dungias had only just managed to use his absorption skill on his body and lessen the registered electricity flowing through his nervous system. Though he could only hold it for so long, it had allowed him to focus his thoughts, search his immediate surroundings, and even meditate. Attempting anything that required greater focus was certainly out of the question, and in the case of considering performing a Jump-Stride, Dungias was slightly relieved that the option was not one he could attempt.
He could feel the circuitry in the neckline of the bodysuit activate. It seemed a point of genius to make it so most of the prisoners aboard ship could not communicate when they were not working… unless, of course, the conversationalists shared a common tongue. With less talking between the prisoners, chances for any sort of organized insurrection was remote at best. But the translators were active now, so claiming one did not understand the orders that had been given was not an option anyone could exercise and hope to avoid disciplining.
Most of the crew was comprised of automated drones, large spheres with a number of robot and weapon arms, and most of them floated. There were hundreds of them, performing all sorts of duties… save security. For that capacity there were robots with hominoid torsos mounted on track-vehicles. Dungias found their programming to be intriguing, as most of the drones seemed to possess a sense of awareness and individuality. The security robots, with the exception of one that called itself Measure, all seemed to be abrasive, conflictive, and happy to dispense pain at the slightest notion. They were also pretty keen on having the prisoners fight one another. Goneo was the administrator in charge of the fighting circuit, and it was the reason why Dungias’ hands had been bruised. In the short time of Dungias’ incarceration, he had been forced to fight four times. The first engagement had come simply because Dungias was taller than B’Wuldier, one of the many prisoners of the Tohgrunn race.
The Tohgrunn were green, Reptilian hominoids possessive of impressive musculature and a bone structure that made them difficult to harm. They were natural predators with claws, fangs, and occasional growths of spiked bones in various parts of the body. B’Wuldier had sabre-like bones growing out of his forearms… or at least he did. Like most bones, even the offensive growths were breakable. When the master of cafeteria table, called Bouryn-7, had both of his forearm weapons broken, Char-Chang, a floating Pod-Bot, had taken great interest in Dungias, who was then renamed Gethees-11, and had moved him to a less-crowded holding cell. Apparently the security robots took great exception to a Pod-Bot having a fighter in the circuit. The three fights Dungias had experienced had come with increasing difficulty, but Dungias had thought better of showing his skill in combat, and he had taken a number of blows he had not needed to absorb. The victories pleased Char-Chang, but the wounds calmed his enthusiasm in having Gethees-11 fight over and over again. With the victory at the end of the last work shift, Char-Chang opted to have his fighter take the allowed respite from combat.
Pit fighting, however, was simply an extra-curricular activity in the eyes of the Captain of the ship, though Dungias was sure the man was taking in an income from broadcasting the matches. He could recall seeing the outside of the ship and how the hull had been fitted with powerful signal emitters. What other use would there be for such an array on a ship?
“Gethees-11!” a security robot called out, jabbing Dungias in the back with one of its arms. “Your presence is required on Level Three.”
“Understood,” Dungias said clearly and turned away from the line. He could hear one of the Pod-Bots floating behind him as he walked toward the lift. It saw him into the car, but remained on the floor as Dungias ascended. He enlisted his absorption technique and then engaged his senses, feeling out for a piece of himself that had been taken away. Level Three was high, above any place he had been thus far, and if there was a chance to find Alpha, Dungias was going to take it!
Two levels into his fifty-two level ascension, the lift stopped and the doors opened. A rather striking figure of a female stepped inside, quickly lifting her finger to her lips, signaling for Dungias to remain quiet. She was tall and lean, but she was not wearing a bodysuit, though Dungias would have appreciated it if she had been. The fitted dark brown pants, however, were adequate to the task of viewing her shape. Her skin was a metallic bronze, and it was stretched taut over her square-shouldered frame. Long, wavy, green hair had been pulled into a backtail, perhaps to keep her vision clear. She wore a silver and black patch over her right eye, and her left eye appeared to be a ruby with the way it sparkled.
Dungias quickly nodded and the female’s head tilted, surprised at the speed of conception and reaction he had demonstrated. She smiled, but very briefly, and dropped to one knee, placing the case she was carrying on the ground. She opened it and Dungias could see it was some sort of input/output interface. The doors to the lift closed and the car resumed its trek.
“We’ve got very little time to do this,” the woman said in simple and very informal K’Vo. Dungias was able to immediately place her voice – the warm and inviting tones that had made him feel like he had stumbled upon an unexpected blessing when he first encountered this ship. “… so if you have to say anything, keep it brief.”
Dungias looked at his unbound hands and considered choking the female. He hesitated; something about the way she carried herself made him curious as to what was happening at the moment. “Proceed,” he replied.
“So glad I have your permission,” she said sarcastically.
The woman looked up with the ruby eye and blindly keyed commands into the machine. Dungias could feel the lift slow down to less than one-third its normal speed.
“That gives us a little more time,” the woman said as she stood up and reached to the small of her back. She produced a device that had an I/O port on the end of it. “Give me your back,” she directed.
“You’re asking me to trust you a second time?” Dungias said, looking at the bodysuit. “I cannot say the first occasion yielded anything favorable for me.” The woman sighed in frustration as her shoulders dropped. She looked up at Dungias and came to the quick conclusion that even if they did not have time, that mattered little to the Malgovi.
“Fine,” she said, holding up her hands. “My name is Taas, and even though I don’t wear the bodysuit like you, it doesn’t mean I’m free. Zaylo couldn’t run this tub without me, but I’m on just as short a leash, trust me.” Dungias’ eyebrows lifted over his eyes. “Okay, don’t trust me,” she said holding up the device. “This little baby will let me adjust your suit so that your elevated brain activity won’t be read by the master computer.”
“Where will it be read?” Dungias asked as he turned around.
“On my computer,” the woman replied as she touched the device to the back of his suit’s neckline. Dungias could hear bleeps coming from the machine signifying that it had made contact.
“That would mean I am only exchanging leash-holders,” Dungias remarked.
The woman sighed as she continued to work. A few softer bleeps and clicks sounded off before Taas removed it. “Done.”
“Why me?” Dungias inquired as he turned back around to face Taas.
“You’re kidding, right?” Taas asked as she verified the changes she had made to the suit. “You’re a walking wall of muscle!”