Joe Devlin: And the Renegades’ Toil (Space Academy Series Book 5)

by James Thomas

  But before Commander Devlin could respond, the Tourian Boy also appeared into the room, to the Commander’s displeasure.

  “Your father has already given me his answer,” retorted Brock.

  “Yeah, I think my dad’s crossness might be misplaced, with me as the true target,” said Joe. “You see this is Sadar Tourian, you know, the Living Tourian God.”

  Ensign Brock almost erupted with a sarcastic laugh but kept it to a good-sized smirk. Between being called a traitor moments earlier and then seeing a Tourian God appear from the stairway, the similarity was not lost on him. “Is there anyone else hiding in the wing that we traitorous types should know about? Like Admiral Pearson or, say—the President of Bandor!” It was as if the boiler steam was being released from a safety valve all at once as it readjusted to an equilibrium.

  “Wait a minute here, you two . . . I mean three,” exclaimed Commander Devlin, “Don’t you try to turn this on me! Was this planned? And who says my son or anyone else is a target? What kind of person or dad do you think I am?”

  “Dad, no, it was just good luck,” replied Joe.

  “You mean bad luck,” Commander Devlin interjected. “I don’t see how any of this is good, especially if ISF finds out.”

  “It’s a chance to end the war with the Tourians for good,” said Brock.

  “Seems to be over for the Tourians already. The entire race is imprisoned,” said Commander Devlin.

  “Enslaved,” retorted Sadar.

  “You see, Admiral Pearson wants us out of the picture so he can get all the recognition as a hero of Bandor,” stated Joe.

  “Is there an echo in here?” replied Commander. Devlin. “You three surely didn’t plan this?”

  “No,” replied Joe. The other two shook their heads in agreement.

  “Are you sure no one else is up that stairway?” joked Ensign Brock.

  Commander Devlin shot the Ensign a look of annoyance but seemed to be relieved as the Ensign started to see-saw down into the couch cushions again, to Brock’s dismay.

  “Okay, okay, I’m listening,” snapped Commander Devlin. “But who cares if he’s a hero or not? Admirals don’t win wars. Soldiers do.”

  “Sir,” added Brock as he re-erected himself on the couch again. “Admiral Pearson wants to conquer both the Tourians and the Grax. He knows the Tourians are enslaved and is trying to keep it a secret from the Bandorian citizens to help his cause. Two warring worlds against one works better for being a hero who defeats both. Then he can go after an even larger prize, President of Bandor.”

  “He who controls all three worlds and the military dictates without fear,” said Sadar.

  “You all need to get past the hero thing. Heroes don’t pick themselves, and let’s not forget that the Grax attacked us first,” retorted Commander Devlin.

  “Yes, sir, they did,” said Brock. “But I don’t think the Admiral wants to even consider a peace treaty with the Grax, and he wants all the Tourians’ territory with its people removed. You see . . . some Grax are against the enslavement of the Tourians.”

  “So, this wasn’t planned?” asked Commander Devlin again. “All three of you just happened to come at the same time?”

  “No, it wasn’t planned,” answered Joe with a nod from Brock and Sadar. “But it’s been developing since my rescue. I just didn’t piece it together until now. We need to rescue the Tourians from Huldra. You see, they are our lost kinfolk, and the Bandorian citizens need to know what is truly happening.”

  With that, the room became dead silent as everyone tried to swallow the insanity of Joe’s request. However, Sadar seemed pleased that a proposal was coming together.

  Commander Devlin finally broke the silence. “Okay, since this wasn’t planned, maybe we should at least have some type of plan, or start on one, since we all are headed down a traitorous and treacherous path. This seems like the impossible to me, so I’m all ears on how.”

  “Are we all in?” asked Ensign Brock.

  Commander Devlin gave the Ensign a caustic look before adding, “We renegades toil with an uncertain fate, but it seems certain, good fortune or fate, that we have to try to return Sadar home.” With that, he sighed, a rare show of frustration for the Commander.

  10

  TRUST NOT

  “He’ll be here,” insisted Joe.

  “It’s too risky to hang around in plain sight,” argued Sadar.

  Joe shook his head in frustration, pulling Sadar’s hood further over his face to try to lighten up the situation. Instead, Sadar pulled away in a jerk of defiance.

  Joe wanted to calm Sadar down. He didn’t know what else to say, but he tried anyway, “You always need a backup, especially with potential one-way journeys.” However, his words had the opposite effect on Sadar.

  “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” asked Sadar.

  “No,” answered Joe, but that was not the complete truth. He had doubts. “Well, I mean, I’m still not sure how we managed to survive our last meeting. You know we did the impossible by escaping from the Grax, and now you want to go back into that craziness.”

  “Together, that’s how we’ll do it!” answered Sadar. “We survived together.”

  Joe shook his head in half agreement. “We’re both too young for this responsibility. Plus, the Black Medallion was a large part of it, don’t ya think?”

  Sadar did not respond to the question. Instead, he changed the subject. “Where is he?” asked Sadar as he scanned the street.

  “He’ll be here,” said Joe forcefully. He was losing his patience. “You can bet on it.”

  Sadar kept his head tilted down and away from the snooping eyes of the surrounding street. They were in the heart of Dansburg, with its paths twisting amidst a maze of people in full daylight.

  “Can’t you just use your coms?” asked Sadar.

  “No way!” said Joe as he looked around. The crowd was getting denser. “ISF undoubtedly monitors all that stuff during the war.”

  The air surrounding Joe and Sadar was thick with smells. Hearty whiffs of smoked meat kabobs from vendors, perfume scents, and varied bodily aromas permeated the area. In one instance, it seemed more of what Joe called stereo stink when two males walked past him, one on each side, brushing his body with their odor. Joe received a double dose of the sulfuric smell of days-old sweat from a lack of bathing.

  “Hey, Weirdo!” spoke M.K. Angel of the blue. He had not seen Joe much since Mandy had taken up most of Joe’s time. Mandy and Joe had become inseparable after her rescue, and now Angel felt a little betrayed seeing Joe with a total stranger instead of himself. Angel had saved Mandy from freezing on Huldra, not Joe or this boy. Angel could not help feeling discarded.

  “Angel, thank heavens,” replied Joe. He did not have time to respond to Angel’s attempts to be funny.

  “Who’s that?” asked Angel. “Can’t see his face!”

  “Seems to be the norm lately,” said Augie.

  “Hey Augie,” replied Angel cheerily.

  “Augie, not here in the open,” said Joe in a muffled tone. Though, with the crowd noise, it did not matter.

  There was no time to waste with the tight schedule they had to stick to in starting their journey. Joe shoved an envelope into Angel’s hand, surprising him.

  “What’s this?” barked Angel.

  “Need you to deliver it to my sister.”

  “And that is what?” asked Angel.

  Joe did not want to drag Angel into another crazy adventure. He had almost lost Angel and Mandy on the last one and was afraid to risk that again. Joe was not sure how to express this to Angel, so keeping him out of the loop was best for everyone. Mandy was always talking about how Angel had saved her. So much, Joe was worried that Angel would do so again with total disregard for his personal safety.

  “A message for Emilie,” said Joe. “It’s important.”

  “Why can’t you give her your own letter?” asked Angel zealously. He was not going to let Joe walk
away without a proper answer. Other than with Mandy, Joe had been reclusive since his return from Huldra, and that worried Angel.

  “Angel, this letter can’t go through the dispatch system. I only trust you to deliver it.”

  Angel scowled. “Okay—I see—it’s important?”

  “Vital,” replied Joe. “Promise me you will deliver it sealed?”

  “Okay! I get it,” said Angel. “Best friends,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “What?” retorted Joe.

  “Nothing,” replied Angel.

  “You need to say it,” said Joe.

  “Sure—I promise,” said Angel.

  “Sorry, but I need to go,” said Joe as he turned to leave, but then stopped, twisting his head back. “Angel, you . . . you are my best friend. We’ve been through a lot and I owe you for that. Take care!”

  Angel was stunned by the situation and Joe’s bizarre words. Something was not right. “Wait, Joe! You have something on your,” said Angel as he grabbed Joe’s collar.

  Joe and Sadar were dressed in civilian clothes to blend in with their surroundings. Joe’s collar had a high flare that stuck out from his jacket. He had chosen warm and rugged clothes to prepare for the unexpected in his travels.

  “Please, stop it, Angel,” said Joe as he pulled away from Angel’s grip on his collar. Joe readjusted his neckline back into his jacket as best as he could. “Are you trying to undress me!” Then he turned and walked away.

  Angel smirked. He knew he hadn’t lost his touch. While he still had questions about what Joe was up to, he now had a way to get some answers.

  With Joe and his new friend gone, Angel turned the envelope over. It was sealed with Joe’s initials on the back, but he had promised not to open it.

  ***

  “How’s he getting the medallion to us?” asked Sadar.

  Joe did not answer, pretending not to hear the question. The medallion gave the wearer a sensation of complete power that Joe cherished even though he knew it was wrong. He wanted to savor it for as long as he could.

  Sadar looked at Joe, but he could already see it on his face. “You already have it, don’t you?”

  Joe touched his shirt. “Yep! Ever since we left my father’s home.”

  “You were going to tell me when?” snapped Sadar.

  “I’m against it,” said Augie.

  Sadar’s face drew inward, causing his eyes to narrow. “Well, that makes two of you,” retorted Sadar. “I thought we moved past that!”

  “You may have felt . . .” said Augie out loud before Joe cut him off.

  “Augie, please. No more external coms.”

  Joe didn’t fully agree with Augie’s risk assessment; he also couldn’t dismiss it. Artificial Intelligence took every fact into account and it could do it in a fraction of a second. However, Joe wasn’t sure if it was as good as the advice of a close friend. Except, this time he couldn’t consult with Angel. Joe was stuck between his instincts and Augie’s warning against giving the medallion to Sadar. Besides, having the medallion returned to him by his father made Joe a little uneasy since he had just given it to his father to get rid of.

  “Augie, are there cameras in the area?” asked Joe.

  One thing Joe knew was to trust his instincts. This AI device was new to Joe, so he needed time to adjust and trust it. Joe still was not sure if he could depend on a device’s judgment over a person’s intuition.

  “Your observable area is clear,” replied Augie.

  Joe turned into a nearby alley. “And here?”

  “Still clear,” said Augie.

  “Lower your hood,” requested Joe.

  “Are you crazy,” said Sadar. “Someone will see me.”

  “Yeah, maybe a little, but you asked.”

  Joe lifted the Black Medallion from around his neck.

  “Right here!” said Sadar.

  Joe quickly placed it around Sadar’s neck.

  “Now . . . either they don’t know you exist, or they think you are dead. So, for the moment, we’re good,” said Joe as he lifted Sadar’s hood back over his head.

  After first turning white from shock, Sadar’s facial appearance changed into a red hue as blood filled his face with joy. “You trust me with it?”

  “Absolutely!” replied Joe.

  Joe had gone through a lot in the past year, but he had also grown physically and through experience. His decision went against Augie’s forewarnings, but Joe knew deep down it was right. Without the medallion, Sadar couldn’t prove he was authentic to his people.

  “Well, I think Augie might have been right,” hinted Sadar.

  Joe’s facial expression suddenly became serious.

  “Just kidding,” said Sadar. “You’ve shocked me enough, so I wanted to return the favor.”

  Sadar adjusted his hood on his head. “You know, you Bandorians might just be okay after all,” he said smiling, “At least one of you.”

  All at once, police sirens sounded, echoing throughout the streets.

  “Well,” said Augie, “I warned you about giving it to him . . . and in a public place.”

  “Can’t be for us,” said Joe.

  However, before Augie answered, he could see several police officers pointing in their direction.

  “Move it,” said Sadar as he took the lead.

  For a young kid Sadar could move. At first, he walked at a rapid pace, but once confirmed that the police were after them, Sadar adjusted his stride to a full run. He struggled to keep up with Joe, who was nearly twice Sadar’s age.

  ***

  People in the street stopped to see what all the ruckus was, making it easier for the police to pursue the two suspects. The crowd parted in a ripple effect, allowing unimpeded running.

  Robert Duncan was a newly appointed police officer, in perfect physical shape, with dark black hair and average height. His supervisor, who was in his late forties, was pudgy and out of shape. He quickly fell behind, while Robert gained on the suspects.

  The younger boy was leading the older teenager through the crowd, zigging and zagging, before turning down an alley and out of sight. By the time Robert had turned into the alleyway, his supervisor had disappeared into the converging crowd.

  At the end of the alley, Robert turned to follow, but the path opened into a large empty field filled with knee-high grass. Robert momentarily stopped to look around before running again. The suspects had disappeared, but he didn’t want to believe he had messed up his first chase. He could already hear his supervisor’s voice. ‘Good job, Rookie Robert, you learned that running fast doesn’t always win the day.’

  No, that was not going to happen today, thought Robert, at least not yet. First, his supervisor had to catch up, so he had a little time.

  Robert stopped again. He could hear an engine start, but he could not see where it was coming from. He did not have to listen hard because it had quickly increased to an ear-piercing sound. The air surrounding him was heating up, but all he could see were trees at the far side of the field.

  The air temperature was quickly becoming unbearable, with winds instantly picking up into forceful gusts. Robert was having a hard time standing in the ever-increasing gales. Not wanting to stay in the intense heat and wind, he ran forward, though he could not tell if it was toward or away from the source. His running attempt failed against the gusts, which swirled around him, knocking him back and forth.

  At this point, he preferred away in any direction. Away from the burning heat that was about to sear him. Robert stepped forward, praying for relief. The heat and wind quickly dropped off, allowing him to run, but he felt like he could not get away fast enough.

  The force of the impact was blunt to both Robert’s head and shoulders, completely stopping them in their forward momentum. However, his lower body below the shoulders was free to rotate forward and under whatever he had hit. His feet whipped forward, parallel to the ground, ending up level to his head. His body then slammed into the ground to a sliding sto
p.

  Robert looked up; his body was overwhelmed by the thud to the ground. He tried to focus with his eyes, but the previously clear air surrounding them now strangely wavered in front of his eyes. He started to lose consciousness when an opening appeared above him, with two dark figures looking down, then growing ever larger.

  Robert passed out.

  11

  ABANDONED

  The cargo freighter, F.C. Promise, dwarfed most other ISF military ships due to the size of its cargo holds. Only narrow passageways connected the ship to its vast infrastructure. Space was a premium the company was unwilling to pay for, so berthing was an absolute minimum and prized by the crew. The most junior cargo mates always got the short straw, having to use a twelve-foot ladder to access the most undesired top rack to sleep.

  The freighter was packed tight with over three hundred of Don Devlin’s old ISF comrades. The cargo holds had been transformed into areas used for berthing, messing, equipment storage, and other important bodily needs. Privacy wasn’t an option, since the hold was an open space, which had never been intended to house people. New carbon scrubbers and oxygen generators stacked in the corners barely maintained breathable air. The titanium floor was gouged and dented from years of usage.

  “Well, Mac, seems to be . . .” said Don.

  “Yep . . . working it,” answered Mac.

  The ship’s previous mission had been to transport ion crystals from the moon, Badra, to Bandor where Mac Holdermen had been its Captain. Although for the ship’s current mission, he served as Don’s Executive Officer by choice. Don was the leader of the group and it just made good sense.

  Mac was in his late forties with coal-black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He did not have a single grey hair, while other Captains his age had already started greying due to the extreme stress of the job. Mac towered over Don by several inches and was the tallest person on the mission. Mac enjoyed his solitude when he could get it and also valued being the only person in charge. Even though Don and he were the best of friends, they kept millions of light-years between them because Mac was not the easiest person to live with.