Star Chaser- The Traveler

by Reiter

  The thoughts of sexual splendor did not remain with her for long as Danatra had to eventually breathe in again. The stench was nearly unbearable when the giant doors ahead of her started to open. The incredibly wide corridor was flushed with fresh air and she breathed in relief.

  “Forgive me for the less-than-timely save,” Dungias said, stepping into the doorway. Danatra did not know what to say at the sight of him. He wore a thickly woven robe that might have been white at some point in its history. Short of some sort of cleaning at the molecular level, it would never be that color again. The robe was not cinched and hung loose around his body. He wore a light, beige sleeping dress under the robe which had dark stains around the neck and chest. Only the gloves and boots seemed to be of any decent make or cleanliness, and Dungias was removing the gloves as the doors finished opening.

  “It was a save, regardless of your timing,” she finally said. “Greetings, my Vu-Prin.”

  “My Vi-Prin,” he replied, turning to walk back into the workroom… at least she had hoped it was a work room. There was no organization to the place, and many discarded attempts at construction littered the floor. Dungias was obviously a veteran of the arrangement, as he navigated the clutter quite easily. “Might I offer you a beverage of some sort?”

  “I appreciate the offer,” she replied before stumbling over what looked to be a half-made helmet. “Not sure I could keep it down,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” he asked, not hearing what she had said.

  “Thank you, no,” she said as she made it to the work table. Dungias picked up a random piece of machinery and started to tinker.

  “As you will, then,” he said, glaring at the device for a moment before applying an adjustor. “What brings you to my den?”

  “I am a servant of the throne,” Danatra stated. “Or don’t you recall?”

  “How could I forget?” Dungias said with a smile, before he belched. “Pardon me.” He reached for what appeared to be a can and drank from it, though not too neatly. The dark stains on his sleeping dress had at least been explained. “So Vu-Zai and Vi-Zai must be very proud! The House Z’Gunok now shares an open association with the Ruling House Galvasti.”

  “They are proud, Dungias, of both of us!” Danatra argued.

  “Odd, but I do not think it was pride Jorl’Lassor hurled at me.”

  “Dungias, that was seven orbi-terms ago!” she stressed. “The man has apologized more times than either of us can count.”

  “Fifteen,” Dungias stated, and Danatra’s head dropped as she sighed. “The first apology, which came just after the conflict was resolved, was that he missed, but I decided to count it anyway. By the way, it was seven orbi-terms and forty-eight star-terms ago.”

  “You are insufferable! Why won’t you meet with the man? Did you know that he has named you heir of House Z’Gunok?” she asked, and Dungias stopped his work. Danatra tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, hoping that this information might actually get her Vu-Prin to move in a positive direction.

  “I was not aware the House Z’Gunok had anything which would require an heir,” he stated.

  “Dungias!” Danatra barely kept herself from screaming. “You saved the life of the Queen and the First Prince. You unveiled and nearly eliminated the Savanté! You restored The Campus, the Mal-Vin, and the honor of our people! You all but single-handedly stopped a civil war! Did you think the Queen would simply send flowers?!”

  “If she had, I would have preferred potted plants,” he replied as the device lit up and started taking a charge.

  “What is that?” Danatra asked, looking at the device. “Some sort of relay?”

  Dungias turned on his stool and had to remind himself that at one time he had made his Vi-Prin his Chief Engineer. “Yes it is. It is a quantum relay of sorts, actually. I am toying with the principle of material-energy displacement.” Danatra smiled.

  “Now that is my Dungias!” she thought.

  “That sounds very engaging,” she commented. “… and a little like teleportation.”

  “I am trying to create a means that will negate the limitations of mass and distance.” Dungias powered down the unit and started on another machine of mostly the same make. “How are the Beta Forms and the Radients?”

  “They are all well,” Danatra replied, noticing the change of subject she had provided. She would kick herself later, but the current conversation was not yet done. “… and they still miss their Master.”

  “You don’t visit?!” Dungias asked, sounding shocked at the development.

  “I am not the Master of The Campus!”

  “That goes against what I recall,” Dungias argued. “When we spoke on the subject–”

  “You asked a favor of me!” Danatra asserted. “And you asked at a time when I wouldn’t… I couldn’t refuse you! Saru had just passed, and you asked me to look after things at The Campus.”

  “Ahh,” Dungias said with a smile and a nod. “That is how I remember things. You were given mastery of The Campus, yes, yes. You did finally graduate, didn’t you?”

  “You were there,” she said flatly.

  “Ahh, I was at that!” he nodded as the unit started take power. Both Danatra and Dungias could tell that something was wrong with the machine, and as Danatra formed a telekinetic shield around herself, the device sparked and exploded. Dungias absorbed the explosion and sighed in disgust, tossing the contraption to the floor. “Well, we know the power feeds are good!

  “And what good is a shield around just you?!” Dungias barked.

  “At least I would have been able to get you to help,” Danatra quickly replied before she started to laugh. “But there is an odd sense of poetry to the mighty Dungias being brought down by a faulty relay design.

  “Wait a moment,” Danatra realized.

  “So close,” Dungias muttered.

  “The yield of that blast was considerable. You can still absorb iro-forms!”

  “Par for the occupational course,” he replied.

  “What?” Danatra asked and Dungias closed his eyes, remembering that his Vi-Prin had no concept of human customs or their… games?

  “Nothing that is worthy of repetition,” he stated as he reached for his can. He took another healthy gulp with nearly a third of the drink running down his chest.

  “What is that?”

  “Something I’ve learned to cook up,” Dungias replied, gesturing over his head. On a platform against the near wall was a poorly crafted distillery, and Danatra cringed at the concept that a liquid coming from that machine was being put inside her Vu-Prin’s body. She took hold of the can and smelled the black liquid, feeling faint the very next instant. She started to stagger back and Dungias moved quickly… to catch the can, as his Vi-Prin’s back met with the floor. “Whew! That was close!”

  “There is no way that poison can be clean!” Danatra screamed as she rolled over.

  “Clean poison?” Dungias winced in an attempt understand the implication. “I do not think you have a hold of either concept, Vi-Prin.” Dungias managed to gulp down more of it before returning to his stool. He picked up another design of a relay and started tinkering.

  “By the Stars!” Danatra exclaimed as she stood up.

  “No. Just that device up there!”

  “Speaking of devices, where is Alpha?”

  “Over there in the corner somewhere,” Dungias gestured over his left shoulder. Danatra stepped over to look around Dungias and surely enough, in the corner in a crate of tubing and pipe, a very dusty and dirty Alpha had been stored.

  “Enough!” Danatra yelled as she reached to her side and drew her sword. Her backhand swing passed over Dungias’ ducking head. He grabbed the can and flung the contents at Danatra who jumped back, clearing four meters as she held up her free hand and kept the liquid from touching her.

  “Hrmph!” Dungias snorted, hopping over his work table, landing in a pile of cluttered metal. He emerged from the pile with a single-edged blade t
hat he dropped as he tried to twirl it. Danatra lunged forward, recovering every bit of ground she had given, and her thrust was smacked wide of Dungias’ shoulder.

  Dungias landed a head bunt to her forehead that pushed more than it hurt, but it gave him enough time to kick the sword up to his hand and deflect Danatra’s next attack. Their swords locked and Dungias tried to use his strength to push Danatra to the ground. She spun with his push, causing him to stumble and be off balance as her spin kick connected with his jaw. Dungias was lifted up and over the table, landing on his back.

  “Yes, she did graduate,” he whispered before he kicked up to his feet.

  After setting to receive Danatra’s attack, Dungias gave ground, knocking down her thrust before side-stepping her lunge. Putting one hand on the worktable, he flipped over it as her blade passed under his feet. He landed on the far side and Danatra jumped up on the table, looking to run across it. Dungias’ sidekick was powerful and Danatra was now on shaking ground. She stumbled and Dungias spun, sweep-kicking her feet from under her. She landed on her side, but she could feel the edge of Dungias’ blade resting on her neck, suggesting that she should remain still. She released her weapon and held up her hand. The blade was removed, twirled and the blunt was slid under the other side of her neck and she could feel her body being lifted from the table.

  “You look atrocious,” she remarked. “You stink worse than the dead, but you’re still sharp. Sharper than I remember. How?”

  “Out the giant doors and to the right,” Dungias said as he extended his sword to a nearby shelf. It slid under a small black box that he catapulted over to Danatra. “And drop that on the pile once you’re done.”

  Danatra looked at the device and could instantly see it was some sort of destructive charge, but nothing fashioned for any consumer market. She walked quickly, driven by a burning curiosity. Dungias had always been skilled in combat, but his agility had improved, his swordsmanship…

  “To say nothing of that kick!” she thought. “There simply is no way he gained that from anyone in the Shadow Corps!” The doors opened to allow her passage and Danatra put her arm across her nose as she now understood where the stench was coming from… something had indeed come here to die! “No, not something,” she thought as she saw the ‘pile’. “Five somethings!” Of various sizes, and only three being of Malgovi blood, Danatra looked down on the remains of would-be assassins that her Vu-Prin had dispatched to another trek. She tossed the device and returned inside. When the doors closed behind her, she watched as Dungias tossed his blade to the floor.

  “Those are the most recent ones,” Dungias reported. “The ones I managed to keep.”

  “Vu-Prin!”

  “The first two came at the same time,” he informed. “Savanté, and very eager. One fell into my smelter and the other I threw into an arc relay.” Danatra winced in sympathetic pain. “After that, they turned to finance, sending the best that money could produce. It took two orbi-terms before that included the BroSohnti. Over the star-terms the visitations thinned out. Then there was your graduation.”

  “Dungias,” she whispered.

  “I still had a smile on my face, and I needed that smile… I was still reeling from Gantee’s attempt to have me arrested for the crimes I committed against his people. The one you spoke of earlier in the prevention of civil war… those actions. I take it the former Champion of the Games is still without iro-form?” Danatra shook her head ‘no’ and Dungias nodded. “That is unfortunate. Did he ever show at The Campus?”

  “Only when you asked BJ to bring him there,” she revealed. “But he did not stay long enough to learn anything, and he never even moved past the front gates. What happened after my graduation?”

  “They managed an ensemble cast,” Dungias answered, going back to the work table. “They pounced just outside the beginning of the tunnel.”

  “How many?”

  “Ten… Malgovi,” Dungias said, searching for his tool.

  “It fell to the other side,” Danatra pointed out.

  “Many thanks,” Dungias said, crawling under the table. He came up on the other side with tool in hand. “Ten Malgovi, fifteen Vinthur and two BroSohnti. That was the living compliment. They even brought three battle robots to make things more interesting.”

  “How did you survive that?!”

  “You sound disappointed,” Dungias replied.

  “You know that’s not it. But with so many…”

  Dungias reached into the pocket of his robe and took out a large grenade, tossing it over to his Vi-Prin. She caught it and looked at the technology of the device.

  “This is not a bomb,” she concluded. “I see an iro-form capacitor but…”

  “It is not what you could call a direct bomb,” Dungias admitted. “It opens a door to the realm of Infernon. To a fire geyser, two hundred trams in diameter, which, to all records kept thus far, never stops spewing lava and fire.” Danatra dropped the device and almost screamed when it hit the ground. She quickly bent down to pick it up. “I have only ever made two of those keys.”

  “And you… are you immune to his fire now?”

  “He does not wish to burn me, Vi-Prin,” Dungias revealed and Danatra closed her eyes to the thought that the easiest contest had come when an army of assassins had been sent to kill her beloved Vu-Prin. “Of course, now they are sending Campus graduates!”

  “WHAT?!” Danatra barked.

  “You did not recognize the Dragon Stamp kick,” Dungias asked. Danatra turned away and quickly folded her arms. The fury that was building inside her was already indescribable. It would soon be uncontainable!

  “I use that room to your left,” Dungias offered. As he gestured, a door slid open and Danatra could see a small sitting room. “Do not worry, it has been thoroughly tried and tested.” Danatra ran to the room and Dungias closed the door behind her. He could hear her muffled scream and her chosen iro-form of electricity. As he promised, the room withstood her rage. “She may be a while,” he said, putting the relay down on the table. “In any case, I would need to open the door.”

  “Then we’re assured our privacy,” the Malgovi woman said as she dropped her stealth field. “The last thing I would want is to kill someone I haven’t been paid to kill.”

  “How very considerate of you,” Dungias said, looking over the woman. She wore a form-fitting black and green bodysuit. She was covered from head to toe, wearing a specialized visor over the eyes of the mask. “That looks somewhat like my design.”

  “A little gem plucked from the scanning database of the Royal Palace,” the woman replied, drawing both of the short swords from her back. “A few improvements have been made.”

  “And still need to be made,” Dungias said, pointing at his armtop-computer. “I do not know how long you have been here, but the moment you stepped into range, I was able to read you.”

  “When you’re dead, I’ll be sure to avail myself of that scanner and add it to my inventory.”

  “Only forged weapons.” Dungias remarked.

  “Nothing for you to absorb, vermisar!” the woman snapped.

  “Do I detect a measure of passion?” Dungias asked.

  “I was set to be wed, you animal,” the woman hissed as she took her stance. “To a good man of higher standing!”

  “Not a particularly demanding individual, was he?”

  “I was going to bring my family out of obscurity,” she continued, ignoring his retort. “… and on the day of the ceremony, as I was about to receive his vows, I lost my Light!”

  “That sounds unfortunate,” Dungias replied.

  “I found a retired Exemplar who agreed to train me,” the woman explained. “There was only one thing he would take as his payment.”

  “You see, you still managed to have a warm bed.”

  The woman yelled and lunged forward, thrusting with one sword but keeping the second back for a guard. A half turn was all that Dungias needed to move his shoulder out of the way of the
blade. He then was forced into a back bend to avoid the second blade. He embraced the Star-Stride to jump from that position and spin as her blades passed both over and under his body. He landed on one foot and rolled under his worktable. He heard his robe tear from the fury of the woman’s blades.

  “She is good,” the Traveler thought. “… but that is hardly how an Exemplar fights! Ahh, a pipe!”

  Dungias rolled in a direction perpendicular to the one he had taken to get under the table. Two blades came through the work bench, just missing his legs. With a long section of pipe in hand, Dungias twirled his weapon and readied himself. He could hear his Vi-Prin calling his name.

  “You should let her out,” the woman suggested. “She might be able to help you!”

  “I doubt I need her help against you,” Dungias said, swinging the pipe backward over his head. It struck something solid, and a body fell to the ground with the stealth field failing. “Now you might be another consideration.”

  “He knows we’re here!” the downed woman screamed. “Attack now! Sordidia, your blades!”

  “Yes!” the swordswoman replied, lunging back into the fight. Dungias met her charge with his own. Her sword came down on the arm of his robe and struck something hard enough to stop the sword cold. Dungias did a backflip off of Sordidia’s chest, landing in a kneeling squat as three bladed stars flew over his head. Throwing the pipe, Dungias struck the woman who had thrown the weapons. Her head snapped back as she too became visible.

  “Teesh!” the second woman cried as she got up, readying her fighting sticks. Dungias jumped up and a body passed under him, colliding with the stick-wielding female.

  “Anshuree,” the woman called out as she rolled clear of where she had fallen. “I’m sorry.”

  Dungias landed on the platform with his distillery and reached under the collection tub to grab a pair of hand maces. He spun around swinging after he had grabbed the first and managed to deflect a throwing star. A second just missed over his shoulder. He moved his second mace in front of his eye and it blocked a third star. Dungias leaned to his left to avoid the fourth, fifth and sixth.