The Space Needle (League of Cosmic Justice Book 2)

by Sam Sea

  “Were you serious…? Were you?” Irkoniss voice brought him back. “… about honoring the promise of giving me a free slate, a new start? You’re the ECI. You can do that.

  Val looked at him, knowing that he may pass out again any second. Normally he would answer with something like ‘not really’, ‘not very’, ‘not at all’, or just would put a bullet through the criminal’s mind.

  “How am I to know you will not commit another crime?”

  ”I cannot promise that…” Irkoniss answer surprised him. “What will happen to Mikka?”

  “What do you want to happen to her? You care?”

  “Yes.”

  “My emotions are very mixed about that. At one hand, she killed my mentor, my partner for more than eighty years. She has to answer for that. She will answer to me when time comes… That’s all I can tell you without lying to you.”

  Irkoniss nodded his head, but the worrisome expression of his face was not changing.

  “Don’t worry about Mikka… she is in good hands now…” Irkoniss wasn’t sure what Val was referring to. “Besides you have a bigger problem now…”

  Val tried to keep his eyes focused with less and less success.

  “The ship is programmed and locked on autopilot…by the time it stops, the police will board it…I hope you think about that before you decide to do something you may regret later.”

  Irkoniss was silent, so Val continued. “In an hour, she will be out of there…if I am still alive by then, you can put me in.”

  “And why should I do that?”

  Val took a long breath as his leaded eyes could stay open no more. “Why don’t you tell me who you are, young man… Tell me your story, and then, maybe then I will decide if I am to keep my word.”

  Irkoniss thought about things that were going through his head last few days, thought about telling him all of that, but he didn’t want to relieve through it again.

  “What you need to know is that I am Irkoniss of Groklin bloodline. And I will do anything to go back to my planet, and find exactly what has become of my mother, my family and my people. Let me do that, take me there, and when I am finished, you can judge me later as you see fit…But if you promise to permit me to go to them, I will keep you alive for an hour…and you will not die.”

  Val didn’t answer but looked through the observation window on the ceiling. The planet was disappearing fast and ship's plasma engines were blasting hard to break into the wormhole. The closest click station was less than an hour away.

  There was no way anymore of stopping the ship now until it reaches Timor's place. Even if he does not make it, Timor would know what do to, and Li’a would still live. Maybe…

  But that was not the only thing that was bothering Val. Val felt not ready, even after eight hundred years of existence. He felt like he still had a job to do. This couldn't be it. I have to stay conscious for a bit longer, for a minute longer, just until Li’a comes out.

  He glanced toward the tube where hundreds of silvery twigs were sticking in and out of her body, repairing everything that was wrong with it, one cell at a time.

  He raised his head to see the tube's monitor, with the probability of a survival listed at seventy-four percent. And he felt a bit better.

  She will make it. She will. She is a fighter.

  He felt his chin hit his chest, and opened his eyes. A second, a minute has passed by, he could not tell. Irkoniss was still sitting quietly in a comfortable position twenty feet away, steadily looking at him, looking at the gun which was not all that firmly pointed at him anymore, waiting.

  "Tell me, tell me your story... What made you become an assassin? What made you do what you do?”

  "I'm no assassin. Something else… maybe, but not an assassin.” After letting go of few deep breaths, he continued. “There was this ten-year old girl kidnapped from my planet, taken from her family. She was my sister, and I want to find her. I need to do that. So, if you keep your promise and set me free, who knows, maybe I won’t slit your throat in the next five minutes…besides, if I do nothing, who knows, in the next fifteen minutes, I will not even have to do it anymore. So you better think now how you can help me. Frankly, I don’t think you have more than a few minutes.”

  Thank you for taking time to read this book to its very end.

  Subscribe to author's monthly newsletter to be notified of new releases as well as the regularly scheduled discounts -> link

  Your review is always greatly appreciated!

  The story of Mikka and her company continues…

  Insert:

  The morning sun has not shown its true warmth yet as Les woke up suddenly, shaken with the jolting pain traveling through his body, the tortures of days passed not ready to give him any more peace. At the first thought, he was not sure of anything, of life or death, his partially opened eye seizing only the mist and clouds around him.

  Is this the afterlife then, the misty place in heavens where one is to meet and face Ra, the god of justice, who is now to judge me like he judges all mortals for all the wrongs and rights they do? He felt fear strike him harder than pain as he remembered so many wrongs and so few rights he did during his life.

  If it’s not too late, if anything can still be done, oh Ra, oh, you merciful… Give me a second chance, give me a second chance to redeem myself, and I’ll do things right. I will sin no more, I will be your hand of justice, will help widows and those that can’t help themselves… I will be your hand… Just give me another chance… He sobbed besides himself in his prayers, cold tears wetting his cheek.

  But soon, in his sobbing, he realized that the pain he felt probably meant that his soul has not abandoned his earthly body, and as he tried to move an inch, the overpowering pain returning with all its might, temporarily paralyzing him completely.

  Then another thought stroke him harder than any hammer could. Or could this be hell, the place where I will spend the eternity, facing now retributions of all the misery I bestowed on others, men I killed, their families, their crying children… all collected, all returned to me now…? I did not know… I did not know… Forgive me, forgive me, my heavenly lord. Give me another chance to redeem myself…

  He stopped breathing, but somehow felt thankful of the pain, of still being alive. If you help me Ra… If you give me another chance, I will sin no more. Erase my painful judgment, and I’ll erase my wicked ways…

  In the end, he moved the pain a side and gasped for air, filling his blood-dried nostrils with the chill of the morning. It felt good. It felt good to be alive. He slowly turned his aching head away from the campfire that was on its last sparks, squinting with his good eye as he tried to look around. The shadow that saved him was among the tall pine trees behind him, standing frozen, steadily observing him with the pile of newly collected branches in its arms.

  The forest mist was not yet ready to leave them, but he could see the shadow clearly.

  He was certain.

  What is it doing? Why is it watching me? What does it want from me?

  "Who are you?" he yelled, waiting to hear the answer, hoping that the shadow was real and not a ghost which would not need a warmth of the fire to begin with.

  "Why did you save me?" he begged for the answer, trying to move as the shadow advanced toward him.

  "What do you want from me? Who are you?" Questions met no answers as the shadow came steps away.

  "Does it matter...?" The same voice he heard before he passed out, soft as silk, seemed to be playing, dancing with words that ringed quietly, subdued in a tone he never heard before..

  “If it doesn’t, then tell me, and give peace to my torn mind… Who are you? Are you an angel or a demon?”

  The shadow chuckled before throwing branches over the fire.

  They were up in the mountains. He was certain of that as he could see nothing but tall pines everywhere. Probably good twenty miles away from the castle of Sirnia.

  A long, dark cloak covered the shadow, but it was no
t made of anything as rugged as wool or anything as fine as silk. It seemed not to wrinkle, and it seemed to take the color of the sparks and turn crimson as the shadow stood next to the fire.

  “Magic…” Les accepted. “A wizard… must be a wizard…”

  "What are those beasts?" the shadow asked suddenly, interrupting his bubbling.

  "What beasts?" He looked as the shadow turned her hooded head, pointing down the slope where a small trail was disappearing in.

  "Those...that make that funny noise...are they dangerous?"

  He tried to look harder with his eye, but could not make out nothing but the mist.

  There is no fear in her voice, yet she asks of beasts …If it doesn’t know of beasts, maybe it is not of evil kind, and maybe it is not that all powerful after all...” Les thought but as hard as he tried he could see and hear nothing.

  "You do not hear?"

  Les shook his head. He really could not hear, his ears seduced by the sweetness of her voice. What beasts was it able to hear, what kind of magic was it, what exactly was it talking about?

  "What kind of a man are you? You can't fight, you can't hide, you can’t walk, and now you cannot even hear?" The shadow was mocking him again, but even in mocking, the voice was pleasing to his ears, seducing him softly.

  But then, the devil is seductive, the devil can corrupt and deceive.

  The devil might be toying with me. "Who are you?"

  "I am no devil," the shadow answered coldly and briskly. "I saved your life after all... Would a devil do that?"

  "So why don't you show yourself, reveal yourself to me then? Put my mind to rest."

  "You don't believe your ears, you don't believe your mind... Why would you believe your eyes?"

  "But eyes can see... No?"

  “If your mind doesn’t see, what good are your eyes?”

  “You… might be right… but still…”

  “But if it’s going to stop your stupid questions, and staring at me like I’m not real…”

  Finally the shadow pulled her hand out of her rope, and slowly took her hood off. The first thing Les saw was a red hair, the color of fire, long, yet tied in a way he never saw before, the way it looked pretty yet completely under control. You could jump roofs with that hair, win sword fights, shoot arrows… it would never bother you.

  Then she turned around and he saw the face of an angel, white soft skin of a woman who was not older than twenty winters with greenest eyes he thought could not be real. Her lips, full and red, opened..."Do you trust your eyes now?"

  Les shook his head in disbelief, forgot all about his pain as he continued to stare blank at the woman in front of him. "Who are you?"

  "Just like I told you…you don’t trust your mind, your eyes… Can you trust your ears now?" the angel said, starting to look upset. But even upset… Certainly something so beautiful could not have been of this world, and certainly could not be devilish, it would be too evil, too evil for even the devil, Les concluded with the breath he suddenly remembered he needed.

  "Can you trust your ears?" through her raised voice, almost alarming, he finally heard, a distant, miles away cry...no, those were not cries of monsters. She didn’t know.

  "Those were hound, not monster... They are just howling of hounds.”

  “What are hounds?”

  Les shook his head not understanding the question.

  “Answer me.”

  “Big, mean dogs... You certainly must know what a hound is?" Les flinched, thinking what that could actually imply.

  “Would I ask if I did, stupid?!” Even her scorning him was beautiful.

  “They must have picked up our scent. They are very good at that.”

  "So they are after us? I thought they had nothing that could track us around."

  "It is the smell we leave behind... they can track it for miles, even the slightest hint...they have a sense of smell much better than humans…"

  The angel looked at him in surprise and disbelieve, seemed unable to understand the concept. "How? How do they do that?"

  "They are bread for that..." She is no angel, angels would know about the hounds and what they can do to a man or woman they are chasing. Yet she is not afraid at all... just more of... seems to be confused.

  “So they bread things here. And what, you, you are bread to be stupid?” Her voice, there was no anger in it, almost indifference, mocking without intend to hurt, and he didn’t mind.

  "If I knew they could track us, I would not have stopped here. But you, you looked so…fragile, so… like a baby. You seemed to have needed a calm place to rest and recuperate... But now then, we need to get going at once."

  "Yes." Les answered through his teeth as he tried to bring himself up with his elbows. The pain instantly returned and he let go of all the air in his lungs in a subdued shriek.

  "What kind of magic did you use on me? I should have been dead." He looked at his banded hands, and feet, almost daring to move his fingers and toes. On the third try, he finally succeeded in sitting up, and he dared to look at his legs. Just like with his arms, where were bleeding flash before, the blood crust has already been drying. “What kind of magic is that?”

  “I could help you with your flash and skin wounds, but broken bones…They will need time to heal.”

  “What kind of magic is it?” Les kept on repeating.

  "Let's just say, I gave you some miracle water. I will give you more. It will take away the pain, but it will make you all numb, and you won’t be able to control your legs and hands that well. You will become very disoriented. Understand?"

  Les didn’t. “I can do it,” he said optimistically before he tried to bend his knee, before the pain made his lips tremble. But he still tried to stand up. Only his entire body quivering would just not stop. He almost made it on the second try, but in the end he needed the angel's hand and shoulder to support him.

  "By the way, whoever you are, thank you... Thank you for saving me. I... I can't believe I am standing up. Whatever magic you used is a good magic. Even the best of druids would probably not be able to save my life, and at best would take months to get me back up on my feet...but you, you did it in less than a single day... thank you."

  "You do not need to thank me. You are just a job, just like anything else I’ve done so far. Rather unusual, I have to say. But still, you are just a job. And if you have to know, I was paid to save you and take you to a certain place alive...and that is what I am going to do. Now tell me, how many of those hounds do you think there are? And are soldiers following them?”

  Les nodded his head in an affirmative gesture. “They are usually in groups of at least five or six, but not more than that. Larger groups are much harder to control. And certainly there are a lot of soldiers with them… That is the whole point. But on the account that the duke is hosting the gathering, I do not think, he would send more than a dozen of his men after us.”

  “Tell me more about those hounds.”

  “They are just like… Very big dogs, maybe taller than your waste, but not much more than that.” Mikka face expression seemed that she was very confused. Les tried to help “They walk on fours, like wolfs, have sharp teeth to sink into you if they get close to you. But to their masters, they are very obedient, one of the most obedient animal of them all…and as you know already, have very good sense of smell… Of course they would have sent hounds after us.”

  “They… make funny noises.” The angel said as the yelping could now be clearly heard. “Do they bleed? Can they be killed?”

  “Sure, sure you can kill them...They have sharp teeth and can tear you to pieces. You used an arrow and that crossbow back in the dungeon… That will do it. They are just here pointing the way for soldiers where we are. ”

  The angel shook her head in understanding. “If they are that small, why would I then need to use an arrow? And what you call soldiers, how many, at the most, do you think are there?”

  “I doubt there would be more than twenty, t
hirty. Like I said before…doubt there would be more…Some of them will be armed with bows and crossbows…A few might ride on horses, have good shields.”

  “Then we better hurry.”

  Les did not think he could walk. He was quite certain he could not. But he made one step up the trail, and then the second one, and the third one hurt just a bit less.

  “What do I call you, an angel? You are way too pretty to be the devil.”

  “What, you have seen the devil to know what it looks like? What do you know about the devil?”

  “So you are an angel then? I know you are not of this world…” I know you cannot be of this world…

  Mikka stopped to look at him again, her eyes examining his. “I am no angel…” then after a pause the young woman walked away just to turn around to look him again straight in the eyes. “You can call me Mikka. That will be good.”

  About the Author

  Al Scott started to write for his own pleasure before the age of ten on an old typewriting machine, sometimes typing late into the night, keeping everyone in the house awake. Since those days, he took years to finish his education, graduating with a degree in Economics, and then spent twenty years working as a financial analyst.

  His passion for science fiction only increased during those years culminating in his decision to return to writing. While composing his first novel “Mikka’s Chronicles: The Last Job”, he realized how the depth of the galaxy extends further than his imagination, and some of the arisen questions he tried to answer with the short story, “The Making of an ECI”. He hopes that a lot of other questions will be answered in number of other short stories as well as new novels yet to come.

  Al Scott, besides being a father of three, spends most of his time locked in the galaxy he created even while he takes his favorite long outdoor walks. He is often reminded that there is a life besides writing especially by one bad-ass kitty called Uli.