Eomix Galaxy Books: Illusion

by Christa Yelich-Koth

  “You are scheduled to meet with Commander Xiven.”

  Silence stretched between them for a standard minute before Daith realized the creature wasn’t going to say anything else.

  “All right,” she said, “and you are...?”

  The creature raised an eyebrow. “I am Lieutenant Koye.”

  “Right.” Daith clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “And Commander Xiven is...?”

  “Commander Xiven is the Commander.”

  “I should’ve guessed.” Daith’s cheeks warmed with annoyance. “Want to tell me what’s going on? Who am I? Where am I? Why can’t I remember anything?”

  Koye’s paws contracted for a moment around the datapad. “I will return to escort you to meet Commander Xiven.” Lieutenant Koye clicked his teeth together as he placed a set of clothes on the bed. The motion terrified her, like an animal snapping at prey. “Change,” he ordered.

  After he’d left, Daith tried the door. Locked again. Though still angry, some of her tension ebbed as she registered she wasn’t alone.

  Daith inspected the new clothing—a faded green one-piece jumpsuit. After she slipped it on, she folded the wispy gown she’d been wearing and placed the garment on the edge of her bed. She plucked the papery slippers off her feet and slid on the black, cloth shoes. The clothing fit her quite well. Either the jumpsuit had once been hers or they’d made it specifically for her.

  She felt her body shape, hands sliding over the coarse material. Her body was unknown, like her surroundings. Fear once again threatened her.

  “My name is Daith,” she muttered. “Daith Tocc. And I am someone. I will find out who that is.” Her shoulder muscles unknotted and she let out a deep breath.

  While she waited, Daith wondered if she should try to escape when Lieutenant Koye returned. But because she didn’t know where she was, she might find there was nowhere to go. For all she knew she was on a deserted world or on some desolate ice-covered island. Until she knew more, she would have to bide her time.

  Feeling less panicked, but still impatient, she tapped her feet against the carpet. Her door chimes rang. To her surprise, the door didn’t open. The chimes sounded again.

  “Come in?”

  The door opened to reveal Lieutenant Koye.

  “This way,” he demanded.

  She let out a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and followed.

  Chapter 3

  A pair of dark blue eyes lit up like methane storms.

  Useless. All of it useless.

  Commander Trey Xiven growled. How was he expected to run his ship, keep control of his crew, successfully complete his mission, and oversee operations when presented with ideas like these?

  Commanding officer aboard the Horizon, Trey knew his ship front to back. He’d memorized every bolt from the cargo rooms to the prison cells, knew how every weapon worked, the intensity and coverage of the shields, and how the silari engines powered the massive bulk on which he currently stood. If he could, he would run this ship by himself.

  Impossible. So instead he must rely on others. Though times like these, while he scrutinized the massive mess of garbage scribbled in front of him….

  He whipped around to face the man responsible for his anger. Raqz, the Horizon’s chief engineer, stood at the end of a large oval table in the center of the meeting room. The space was comically empty—the table able to seat 40—with only the two of them at one end. Cheap, harsh, white lights reflected off the table’s slicked, metallic surface and Raqz’s balding head.

  “You call these ideas good?” Trey sneered and gestured toward the stack of datapads on the table. His dark hair, broad shoulders, and chiseled face created an attractive, but imposing figure. He used this to his advantage and towered over the other man, stooped with old age.

  “I can see a dozen flaws, from your so-called security upgrade to your increased shield output. Not to mention you need personnel to help with the installations. Where would you find a dozen extra hands from our skeletal crew?” Trey grit his teeth as pain mounted in his head—another side-effect from the dream-deflector pills he took. “I kept you on this crew when I took command because you were the previous chief engineer. I believed I could count on your knowledge and expertise. But perhaps I made a mistake.”

  “You didn’t really have a choice.”

  Trey’s eyebrows rose, surprised at the tone of defiance. “What?”

  The old man cleared his throat. His voice, thick and gravelly, matched his pitted skin and protruding gut. “I have been a part of this army for a long time. Longer than you. Even when I joined, I weren’t young. But I’m a part of this because you need me here. You can’t afford to lose no one else. I know we gots a skeleton crew. When are you going to accept things ain’t the same as before? You’re going to have to learn to deal with what you got.” He shoved his thumbs into his chest. “And that means dealing with me.”

  Trey studied the short, balding man, his shirt untucked on one side, a smear of grease across his left cheek. His uncleanliness made the commander’s skin crawl, like the shrieks of flying itsu birds at night from his home planet, Sintaur. Trey was tired of laziness, dirtiness, and excuses.

  “You’re right, Raqz. We may not be able to lose anyone else, but extra baggage is worse. It’s taken us eight years to come back from the losses we suffered and you know how important this mission is. I can’t jeopardize our plans, not for anyone.” He nodded to the guards.

  Raqz’s eyes widened to the size of his fists. “No, please! You need me here. No one else can do what I can do.”

  Trey’s voice held no warmth. “Everyone is expendable.”

  “Commander, you don’t have to kill me!”

  “I can’t have a bitter ex-employee telling our secrets.”

  Droplets of gray sweat glistened off Raqz’s bald scalp.

  “I won’t tell anyone. You know I won’t! Please, have mercy—”

  Trey raised his hand and the guards waited. “I wish I could afford to grant mercy, but our cause is to reestablish peace. And sometimes casualties come with peace. Even if you swore you wouldn’t say anything, we both know there are ways to make someone talk. There is no other option. I can’t let you live.” Trey flicked his fingers and the guards moved on while Raqz continued to plead for his life.

  One of the guards shook his head as he turned the corner. Trey understood why some of his crew didn’t agree with the way things ran now, but there was no other option. If news of their plan leaked, the results could be disastrous, and more innocents would be killed.

  Raqz had solid ideas, but he hadn’t physically seen the devastation six years ago when the Aleet Army had been betrayed, its remnants slaughtered at their main base. Trey had returned from an unsuccessful mission—attempting to reinstitute a peace only Jacin Jaxx, while alive, could maintain—and stood shocked at the scene. Buildings reduced to mounds of rubble. Bodies strewn in bloodied heaps throughout the base. Ash had stung his skin and lungs while he choked on debris from the detonated explosions inside the city. Raqz had been away. And the newer soldiers couldn’t comprehend the utter destruction of not only a place, but the last planetary symbol of what Jacin and the Aleet Army stood for.

  Trey wouldn’t, couldn’t, let betrayal happen again. Especially because of their new cargo.

  If that meant sacrificing one to save the many, so be it.

  “Commander Xiven.”

  Trey paused in picking up the datapads from the table. “Yes, Lieutenant Koye, what is it?”

  “I have brought Miss Tocc.”

  Trey turned. Next to Koye was a slender brunette. Trey assessed her, trying to figure out the best way to start the conversation. One misstep could cost him her trust.

  Daith came in, the gray, old carpet flattening under her feet.

  “Commander Xiven, is it? I have some questions for you,” she said. Her voice remained calm, although Trey could see a flicker of emotion in her dark green eyes. He could tell she wanted t
o maintain the appearance of control.

  Trey snapped out of his reverie. “Of course,” he said in the sweetest tone he could muster. He took a seat and gestured for her to do the same. “I’m sorry for all the secrecy, but we needed to be cautious to secure your safety.”

  Questions slipped from her mouth. “Secure my safety from whom? And why would you need to? And where exactly am I in the first place? And—?”

  Trey held a hand up to silence her. When she quieted, he felt a trickle of satisfaction purr inside of him. “Please, let me speak. I am Commander Trey Xiven. My second in command is Lieutenant Koye.”

  Daith’s gaze flickered toward Koye. “Charmed.”

  Trey could nearly see the sarcasm drip off the word. His jaw clenched for a moment before he widened his smile.

  “I’ll get straight to the point. My crew and I were hired to rescue you to keep you from being assassinated. We kept you confined to your quarters until we could confirm the threat was gone.

  “I’m sorry to have caused you any anxiety, but you are safe now. I’m doing what I can to speed up this process so we can get you back to your life.” Trey gestured to Koye. “Lieutenant Koye will escort you back to your room.”

  Before Koye could reach her, Daith stood from her chair and backed away, her lip curled in disgust. “That’s it? I’m supposed to be satisfied with those answers?”

  Trey’s patience wavered, though he kept his voice low and gentle. He motioned for her to sit back down. “I understand your frustration. You have been cleared to leave your quarters, but there are still security risks revolving around the attempt on your life. The fewer who know your whereabouts, the better. I will try to help in any way I can.”

  “Why can’t I remember anything?”

  Trey’s mustered his best look of sincerity. “So your memory hasn’t come back? We did all we could. I had hoped….” He leaned forward.

  “There was an accident,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “What kind of accident?”

  He had to move lightly now, get her to trust him.

  “When we went to transfer you to a more secure location, a ship landed next to us. It carried the assassins. There was a huge explosion and shots were fired. One of them grazed the side of your head and you were knocked unconscious. We got you on board and took off, leaving many of my men behind.

  “You suffered severe head trauma and we weren’t sure if you’d pull through. Our medical technicians healed your physical wounds, but when you woke, you had total memory loss. We hoped the affliction was temporary.”

  Trey studied her reaction. Confusion, pain, disbelief—all these emotions danced in her eyes, showed in the way she twisted her fingers. “How long have I been here?”

  “Four days.”

  Daith shook her head, her forehead creased. “I don’t remember anything before today.”

  “There’s more.” Trey paused for dramatic effect. “I sent a search team to go back to your home after we knew the enemy had gone. Nothing remained. Your family, your house, all information about you had been destroyed.”

  “What?” she whispered. “They’re all gone?”

  Trey took her hand. “I’m sorry, Daith. I will tell you everything I can, but I’m afraid what I say won’t be of much help. Your family hired us, yes, but they didn’t divulge much about your life. Only your danger.”

  Daith’s hand tightened.

  “I’m sure your family loved you very much—”

  “I’d like to go back to my room now,” she said abruptly, standing. “I can’t… I need some time to deal with this.”

  “Of course. It is rather late so we can meet again tomorrow. Your communications panel is now turned on and you can contact me for whatever you need.”

  Daith followed Koye out of the room; her face a reflection of her churning thoughts.

  When the door closed, Trey chuckled. Things with Daith were going well, better than expected. As long as she believed his list of lies, he knew she wouldn’t be any sort of problem.

  *

  Emotions flooded her during her trip back to her quarters. Anger at Commander Xiven for the secrecy, grief-stricken over the loss of a family she would never know, and hateful at those who attacked her and caused her memory loss. She hadn’t been prepared to find out her whole family was dead, even if she didn’t remember them.

  Daith entered her room in such a daze she didn’t realize the space had been cleaned. The food she’d thrown was gone from the wall and carpet, her bed was made, and the wiring on the door had been reconstituted.

  Questions wrestled each other in her mind, each fighting for more importance, struggling to be the first answered, but she had no answers to give. The constant flow of thoughts caused a throbbing pain in her head.

  Rubbing her temples, she realized something else bothered her. Something hadn’t felt right about Commander Xiven. She didn’t know why, but she’d felt he’d been lying to her. There was nothing to indicate he was nor any reason for her not to believe him, but she could sense his dishonesty, like how anxiety knotted a stomach.

  Sitting on the bed, Daith dismissed the feeling. A yawn escaped her mouth. Sleep beckoned her to ignore her thoughts for now. I’ll sleep for a few standard hours then I’ll search this place and get some answers.

  Daith peeled off her jumpsuit, stepped out of her shoes, and slid under the gray cover. She yawned again.

  “Computer, lights off.”

  Within moments, slumber took her.

  Chapter 4

  Spaceport C 27. A rusty metallic orb hanging in space surrounded by blackness pinpricked with points of starlight. Built ten standard years ago by the Aleet Army during its prime, the spaceport’s location was known only to captains of vessels who had served the Army. When the remnants of the group were betrayed by one of their own, most individuals who knew the spaceport’s coordinates died with that knowledge. Since then, the contraption had fallen into disarray, its oxygenized insides rusted, its outer clamps frozen from non-use.

  One captain, now Commander of the Horizon, still knew the spaceport’s position. Docked there now, the last time he ever would be. Yet he felt no nostalgia for the place that had been a safe haven to so many of his fallen leader’s followers.

  On the final occasion of its use, Spaceport C 27 would allow the Commander to convene with the one man who could tell him if he had indeed found his prize.

  *

  A small, curvy ship, the Reminiscence, pulled up to the Horizon’s docking port. The Horizon, secured by Spaceport C 27’s brackets, loomed over the smaller ship, extended its docking clamps, and fastened to the Reminiscence. The metallic claws screeched. The smaller ship latched onto the metal frames of the larger ship to create an airtight seal. The passage hatch of the Reminiscence hissed open and a man around twenty-nine standard years old stepped into the conjoining corridor of the Horizon.

  He stretched his arms above him after the long flight and tossed his dark brown hair off his face. Catching a glimpse of himself on a shiny section of the ship’s wall, he hoped the dark circles under his gray eyes only existed because of the long trip. He rubbed his hands over his pointed nose, thin lips, and up his strong jaw-line in an attempt to wipe away some of his weariness.

  It was late. The Horizon’s inner lights cast a dim, eerie glow through the corridor. Years had passed since he’d been on this ship, and he noticed the lack of care and maintenance. Her corridors were dull and scratched, the gray carpet worn, and burnt-out lights dotted the ceiling. Stale air entered his nostrils, not old, but recirculated for too long without a filter change. The ship should have been quiet, but he could hear the creaks and moans of a stressed hull, overworked engine, and rusted frame.

  Regardless of the changes, and even with the alteration of the ship’s original name, the Enforcer, to the gentler-sounding name Horizon, he still recognized her. This had been the ship of a hero with a vision—the sole piece of machinery which had brought hope and peace to warring pl
anets throughout the galaxy. Of course, many others viewed this ship as the most infamous transport of its time, conveying a tyrant to the planets he helped destroy.

  The pilot stood outside a large, lackluster metallic door and pushed the chime button. He waited for a response, his hands clammy.

  What am I even doing here?

  The door slid open, revealing a semi-circular room. If he hadn’t just made his way through the shabby corridors of the rest of the ship, he would never have thought this area belonged to the same craft. He noticed the worn carpet and dulled walls, but the rest of the room was spotless. The metal desk in front of him shone, recently polished. Stacks of datapads and folders lay piled neatly on one side of a vidlink screen while the rest of the table was completely cleared of clutter. Nothing else existed in the room. No other furniture, no pictures hanging from the walls, no dirt, no trash.

  Nothing except the Commander who sat behind the desk—his image a perfect reflection of the immaculate, sterile room.

  “Trey,” the young pilot said. “I can’t believe this ship still flies.” The accented and clipped inflection of his words remained, even though he’d been away from home for years.

  Trey laughed, brusque and forced.

  “She’s still got some spirit left, Dru,” Trey said, motioning for the pilot to sit. “I know the Horizon appears to be in rough shape, but her condition really isn’t too bad. Besides, how could I give her up? With all the fond memories I have, she’s like my second home.”

  Dru swallowed hard. There were definitely memories. Although he wouldn’t call the last one they shared here fond.

  The conversation lagged and Dru felt the tension in the room spike. He struggled to keep his face neutral while doubts raced inside his head.

  What a stupid idea. How could I think we could work together? How could he ever get over what happened?

  “I called you here for a special reason,” Trey said, breaking the silence. “I need your help.”