Dedelux’s shock wore off quickly and he responded with fire. ‘Who are you to shout at the sovereign Governor of this here city?’
Marshal interrupted him.
‘I’m the damn Marshal Rekkie of Zona Nox, slayer of Ganymede, survivor of the Terra excursion and owner of a Terra-damn tank! I’m higher ranked than you, meaning I don’t have to listen to your mozar-skite! You are going to investigate those reports properly and then you will see that you have no choice but to call for aid!’
A heavy silence fell over the room as Marshal stared Dedelux square in the eyes. Two personalities were at odds and James, Warpmancer or not, did not want to risk harm by intervening.
Dedelux finally inhaled and then exhaled. He closed his eyes calmly and then spoke without raising his voice.
‘Guards!’
Yellow arm-banded Troopers rushed into the room to restrain a stunned Marshal and James.
‘You’re dooming us all!’ Marshal yelled, as he was dragged by three brute Troopers.
‘Your charter days are over, Troopers,’ Dedelux said as he stood to see them out. ‘I hereby pronounce you, with my authority as Planetary Governor, guilty of treason. You are both dishonourably discharged.’
Marshal kicked and fought against the guards but James reserved his strength. He looked calm but that was far from the truth. He was writhing in anger – cold hot rage.
Dedelux was an Imperial agent. There was no other reason for his blatant disregard for both Trooper tenets and the evidence they had shown him. He now knew that someone was onto his lords. They would be ready.
James would have to be faster, smarter and stronger than he had ever been before. He could no longer rely on the power of others to reach his goals. He needed his own power. His own command. His own army.
James knew that it was time for him to become a god. Defiantly, he allowed the guards to drag him to the icy metal cells of Nexus’ prison.
Nathan was in the mess hall, as he always was, when he heard news of Marshal and James’ capture. A non-Yellow Zarxian sergeant named Yobu had been spreading the news around the mess hall during his guard duty. With so few Troopers left to be shipped out, they had only assigned one guard. When Nathan spoke to him, he said that he’d been in James’ squad on Zona Nox.
‘He was a great leader. An almost inhuman fighter. He was willing to do whatever it took to get us to safety.’
Nathan explained to him how he knew James. Yobu was in awe. A group of Troopers were now surrounding them.
‘James…captured?’
‘Marshal, the slayer…couldn’t be.’
‘Yes,’ Yobu repeated, ‘James and Marshal were arrested at midday. Dedelux has dishonourably discharged them for treason.’
‘Marshal is a legend!’ a young Trooper piped in, ‘He’s more loyal to Mars than Dedelux could ever be.’
The group nodded.
‘What does this mean for us?’ Nathan asked Yobu.
Yobu shook his head. ‘Nothing good. You are the last shipment out of here. By tomorrow, there will be no Zona Nox Trooper left on Nova Zarxa, except for James and Marshal.’
‘And Frank! We can’t leave them,’ a burly Trooper named Ruble exclaimed.
The group in its entirety voiced their agreement, all except Nathan.
‘What is it, Nathan?’ Ruble questioned.
‘We can’t simply stay here. They’d gun us down.’
‘There is a way,’ Yobu whispered. The entire group hushed and moved in to listen.
‘This building is currently running on skeleton staff. Dedelux has been moving most of us out of Nexus. Most Troopers still in Nexus are being used for crowd control. The Zona Nox refugees have been rioting and shooting them has only made them angrier. We could all break out of here and go into hiding in one of the outskirt mines, from there we can plan to break out Marshal and James.
‘Any danger?’ Nathan asked.
‘There’s always danger but I don’t see what choice we have. Let’s go. Now!’
There wasn’t any further discussion. They collected their belongings and with only one gun among all of them, broke out of Dedelux’s house arrest. In the eyes of the law, they were no longer Troopers.
“Zonian nationalism was fundamentally caused by the persecution of refugees by Dedelux. Through an attempt to destroy potential enemies and ‘drags on the state’, Dedelux created his ultimate destruction.” – M. Robble, Human Historian
Chapter 14. Fought the Law
Dedelux’s prison tower rose like a monolith from the glowing fields below. Icy geradite created a cold, blue exterior, with a single doorway, through which Marshal, James and a group of convicts were now being marched.
There had never been a prison on Zona Nox. There were jails, sure. Marshals and sheriffs would confine the convicted until justice was done. But prisons were a different story. An entire building dedicated to the housing of wrongdoers – no – those perceived wrongdoers. It was an unnecessary extravagance. Prisons were an odd thing, James thought. In Galis, you had courts. They were community courts, or linked to the gangs or corporations. The Troopers even had a court. They were there to administrate the confusing matters of justice. For the simpler, stabby and shooty kind of justice, lynch mobs tended to know better than any uppity Trooper trying to make Galis into a new Mars. Zona Nox justice wasn’t perfect, James knew that, but prisons just didn’t make sense to him. Why commit to holding criminals when you could use the very same resources to stop them completely? Maybe James was just less remorseful. Ironic, seeing that he would be the one under the guillotine.
Marshal and James were marched from the icy prison entrance down a long geradite hallway. Through force gates and barred doors, they passed offices, cells, guards and syns. With Marshal and James was a group of around eight convicts. All of them wore bright orange jumpsuits and coded hand-restraints. Only the mag-keys of the wardens could open the restraints.
The guards were better-equipped than the average Yellow in the city. They were armoured from head to toe, carrying shotguns, hand-guns and shock-batons. James suspected that even better equipped assault Troopers resided behind some of the closed doors, in case of a riot.
They stopped in a hall lined on either side by cells, barricaded with geradite bars. Each cell contained three to four orange clad inmates, sitting forlornly around electric heaters. Almost none of the inmates looked like threats. They were puny, with no muscles or even facial hair. It was evident that these were not violent criminals – if criminals at all. James had heard that violence was prevalent in prisons, and thus genders were separated to prevent sexual assault – but these cells were mixed. Both women and men resided in these cells, staring hopelessly into the white lights of the heaters.
A shout from the warden got them moving again. The guards, it seemed, were putting on increased armour and arming themselves with shock lances. They moved down the hallway. Only a few of the convicts looked up at them.
The door at the end of the hallway was triple-guarded. A gate let one enter into a holding chamber that then revealed a blast door and then a force gate. James was almost flattered that they would undergo so much effort to keep him in check.
The crescent-shaped room aligned the entire half of the prison tower. Cells guarded by force gates lined the walls like a hive. Those contained in the cells James could peer into looked like real threats. Tattooed, muscular, scarred and hard-faced. The women in the cells made the men in the other hall look like sexless children. This was where the Trooper dissidents had been hidden. Behind bars, blast door and force gate were those Troopers who had defied Dedelux – or had known too much. It seemed that for one reason or another, the Yellows needed them alive.
As they marched down spiral floors and besides force-cells, James recognised many Trooper faces. Frank McGraff was there, nodding to James with respect.
Whistle-blowers, dissidents, disobedient Troopers. This was the high security section of Dedelux’s personal pr
ison. The place where he made his enemies disappear to maintain his superficial façade of success. This was going to be James’ home – even if only for a while. James didn’t know how he would get out, but he knew he would. Krag-Zot wouldn’t let the humans confine his god for long, and if not that, Aven was sure to release him through some odd contacts.
James saw the reason why the Yellows had armed themselves with the long shock-lances as they stopped by a cell with one inmate in it. The resident – a burly mountain of a man – immediately charged the Yellows, just to receive a zap that knocked him back. If the Yellows had to rely on batons, the long arms of the assailant would have reached their jaws first.
One of the convicts with the group was shoved into the cell. Then they moved on. Convicts in ones and twos were dropped off in cells with room. Until there was only James and Marshal. They were led down a long hallway until they reached a fork. They split and Marshal was led away from James.
Ushered along, James was finally shown to his new home. It was a dark, cold cell, with nothing but a toilet and hard-looking pallet.
‘Be defiant as you want now, “Trooper”,’ one of the guards gloated, shoving him in with the butt of his lance and then shutting the force gate behind him.
James didn’t utter a word.
It was never cold in Nexus. Nova Zarxa was always cold, but Baryu Targa had never felt cold before. The lights and heaters were always kept on in the Nexus central towers. The Governor made sure that his people were always warm, always well-lit and always entertained. Baryu had been in the process of such entertainment, watching a recording of an Astro-Race, when the screen switched off and the lights started to flicker.
Then the heat fell.
This is mighty peculiar, he thought. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Could screenies even be turned off? When were lights ever off in Nexus? When were they ever flickering? Baryu had lived in Nexus all fifty-three years of his life and none of this had ever happened before.
Immediately, he lurched from his armchair and left his two-room apartment. His apartment was located above a screen-repair shop, along a balcony connecting several other apartments which were above even more shops. Each shop was lit well with neon lighting, which was not flickering. Some of Baryu’s neighbours had left their apartments as well.
‘Screen off, Jenny?’ Baryu asked a pink-haired lady holding a small domesticated vowl.
‘Yeah, and right through my shows! What’s going on?’
‘Nothing good. Can’t be good if it has never happened before.’
It looked as if Jenny was about to say something when the ground shook. Jenny dropped the vowl which then proceeded to run around her legs, yapping away and chewing at the edge of her gown.
Police were rushing down the hall, holding scary guns. Baryu didn’t like guns, but he wasn’t afraid of the police. They were there to help.
The ground shook again. This time they heard a bang and some hisses. A voice on an intercom sounded.
‘Please evacuate this sector. There has been a critical malfunction. Please evacuate this sector.’
The announcement repeated itself, alongside a rather unpleasant siren.
‘Agh, going to miss the next round.’
Baryu had been looking forward to watching the race between Pluto and Titan live.
The residents of the complex calmly began walking down the stairs and towards the exit. Then there was a deafening roar and smoke. A flash, a bang and then a whooshing suction.
Baryu opened his eyes as he felt the cold bite at him. He had never felt it before. He had never smelt the cold, noxious air of his home. It didn’t smell like the crisp, minty smell of geradite but of rotting meat that Baryu had encountered once in the lower sectors. As he began to smell the fumes, he collapsed. He coughed and coughed. He doubled over and after hurling, saw that his bile was red.
All he wanted was to watch Pluto beat Titan. They were looking very good this season. Then there was black.
Groups of inmates could watch screens at certain intervals throughout the day. They made sure that inmates who knew each other well never coincided but that didn’t stop James from getting acquainted with some strangers.
The mountain of a man from before was named Alex Yurgan. He was from Titan and used to be a spacecraft mechanic at a docking station. He joined up with Obsidian when the pay was good and had moved to Nova Zarxa when Obsidian was expanding into Extos III. Later, downscaling left him destitute. He decided to do work for Dedelux but after he got perturbed that his pay wasn’t getting in on time, he lodged a complaint and ended up here. In Nexus, you could live a cushy life – if you never complain and never showed any sign of criticising the regime.
It was quite incongruent that such a violent looking man had been arrested for such a petty offence. He stated that the only reason he was in the maximum-security section was because he had made a game of scaring the guards. He had become immune to shock lance jolts years ago, and was only putting on an act of submission so to avoid worse security measures. James doubted that the man was even immune to the shocks. A crater in his arm revealed where the man had ripped out a Dedelux monitoring device from his flesh. Rather than be immune, James rather guessed that Alex Yurgan couldn’t feel pain.
James and Yurgan spent much of their time in the mess hall, watching screens and talking. James had told Yurgan about his escapades and arrest – blotting out the sensitive details. Yurgan was impressed.
This day, there was no talking. Everyone’s faces were aimed at the screen. A newscaster in the pay of Dedelux’s regime was reporting on violence in one of the central residence towers. A bridge had been bombed by a projectile coming from an unknown source. Fifty Nexus citizens had died. Dedelux appeared on the screen:
‘Citizens of Nexus, my friends and family. This is a grave and tragic day which has brought us to mourn the loss of our countrymen. Terrorists have attacked our people! They are jealous of our prosperity and wish to sink our city into chaos. Stay strong, Zarxians. We will not let these terrorists and their collaborators get away with this. They will be brought to justice and your safety and warmth will once again be assured.
‘The Nexus Civil Police Corps have assured me that everything will be under control shortly. In the meanwhile, we will need to tolerate some restrictive procedures. Curfews will now be in effect. Please refer to your wrist-tab for notices. Bridges will also now be under control by NCPC. To accommodate this change, private enterprise will be put under control of the state. Grag-Tec has been found to be collaborating with the Zonian terrorists and will now be treated as a criminal entity. Please report any sightings of known Grag-Tec officials and employees to NCPC. Rewards will be provided.
‘Once again, citizens, these are dark times. But Nova Zarxa is a dark planet and Nexus is a shining beacon in this void of evil. Strength and unity. Hail Nexus!’
The news report ended and the programme was changed to the news that Titan beat Pluto in the Astro-races, a fact that would result in many suicides by doting fans of the defending champions.
‘Seems your people are a lot less tolerant of dictators than the usual bunch, eh,’ Alex stated, picking his nails with a plastic fork.
‘Never knew Zonians to bomb anything. We were more prone to shooting and stabbing. This is odd.’
James was concerned. He could believe that his people, a violent people, would kill Nexus citizens who got in their way, but not wantonly blow up an entire building causing the residents to choke on crystal fumes. That wasn’t the Zonian way.
‘This isn’t Zonian work.’
A few of the inmates turned to him. Alex was interested, but half-watching the Astro-race replays.
‘How’d you know?’ a Zarxian convict asked. He was booked for smuggling and had killed a Yellow in the process of being arrested.
‘When a Zonian wants to kill, they look you in the eyes first. They let you know they’re there.’
James stood and walked towards the convict.
‘They take the knife out slowly, make sure you hear the flick. They don’t hide their colours. They make sure you know which gang they’re from – then they gut you.’
The Zarxian was leaning back. He nodded and James nodded back, returning to his seat.
James nimbly dodged to the side as a shock lance flew towards him. Its sparks illuminated his face in blue. He grabbed the staff and pulled its owner towards him. The Yellow Trooper was wide-eyed as James ripped off his mask and punched him straight in the jaw. The man dropped and James used his new weapon to put down another charging guard. Alex Yurgan was also making headway, head-butting a Yellow and beating him with his own baton.
The cafeteria was a mess. Chairs and tables had been erected as barricades. The convicts used the furniture as a laager against the waves of riot control troops.
Few of them believed that this riot would amount to anything, but James and Marshal did not care. It had been made clear to them weeks ago that the guards were not cleared to kill them. Until a point, the guards would have to tolerate most of their actions – even riots.
James had no problem batting a thrown flashbang back into the hall. He even laughed as he did so. This was a game. It was a contest of Zarxian sensibilities versus Zonian brinkmanship. James didn’t care who broke first. He knew that he had very little time and not much to lose. Destabilising Dedelux’s regime from the prison was all he could accomplish at present. It would have to do.
A convict cried out as a projectile hit him in the stomach. James took cover as rubber balls pelted the tables at high speed. These were fake guns. They did not kill honestly. They wounded and hurt, so that the enemy would give up. Many of the Zarxian convicts did give up. The Zonians did not.
Rise of the Defiant: Book Two of the Warpmancer Series Page 9