Annals of the Keepers - Deception

by Christiaan Hile

  Hessor was part of those who had gained some relative safety behind one, as rounds hissed and exploded all around.

  His men had been firing their weapons in controlled, accurate bursts, synchronizing their firepower as they had done many times before with fatal effectiveness, granting those victories by the score in hard-fought battles. This battle was murderous.

  Hessor watched members of his crew killed from multiple quadrants, almost as if they were being toyed with. His remaining crew fired in all ineffective directions, but no enemy combatants had fallen or could be seen in the low light.

  Hessor’s second captain slid into the buttressed position under a hail of weapons’ fire as projectiles sprayed the walls around them angrily. “Boss, we are getting slaughtered,” he reported. Before he was able to elaborate, a crackling spear shaft with writhing tendrils of red energy punched through the front of his chest.

  A body loomed behind the dying captain, a metal-clad hand pulled the hissing spear shaft back in a spray of blood and bone, covering Hessor.

  “Tell your master we come for him,” rumbled an ominous voice, “Tell Laan Nezgon Zal the Korin Shai come.”

  Hessor ran.

  ∞∞∞

  The door to Laan’s office burst open as Hessor stumbled through the opening, gasping for breath. Laan’s three bodyguards twitched nervous hands on their weapons, as they were not used to someone besides themselves being armed in their employer’s presence.

  Blowing hard to regain his breath and composure, Hessor eyed the three guards watching him hold his combat rifle.

  Throwing it down with a clatter, “This will do me no good,” Hessor conceded.

  The three guards brightened, thinking the veteran combat soldier was speaking of them.

  Laughing and shaking his head, Hessor looked at them with pity in his eyes, muttering, “Fools.”

  “Pick up your weapon, Hessor,” Laan commanded, nervous. He had never seen his bonded man act this way, and it was worrisome. “Now,” he ordered, trying to instill compliance.

  “No, Zal. Best you beg for leniency. They are here,” Hessor sighed, with defeated finality.

  Laan’s stomach twisted, “Who is here?”

  Two creatures moved through the doorway to Laan’s office. One moved to each side of the doorway, their grey-scaled heads with piercing cobalt eyes scanned the room and the occupants.

  Tilting their heads from side-to-side, they seemed to consider what to do with the bodies inside and acted as if any answer would suffice. Their lithe bodies undulated, as if they could barely keep themselves in check from sudden, furious movement. Encased from head to foot in a sheath of tiny gray scales, they rustled with each movement. The eeriness of the sound made Laan’s skin crawl.

  The pair of Yadlith worm-eaters moved with a rolling, sinuous gait, low to the floor. Their fibrous skeletal systems allowed them to move from one contorted pose to the next without the strain that a normal biped with a rigid skeleton would be able to duplicate. Their pheromones permeated the air with a nauseating reek of decay, associated with rotting corpses. They were scavengers, carrion eaters, and loyal creatures under the thrall of their Kryth Mahr masters.

  As much as the Yadlith set Laan’s teeth on edge, the next three figures that entered the room made his blood run cold. The filigreed armor with the Eternal Flame of Dranneous Kor etched into the breastplate was famous throughout the Domain, the Vrae Empire, and most every civilized sector of the galaxy.

  “Korin Shai,” Laan choked, watching Hessor go to his knees and raise his hands in supplication, showing he held no weapon and was not an immediate threat.

  “Come now, Laan Nezgon Zal,” an almost jovial voice mocked from the doorway.

  A crimson cape fluttered as the large figure ducked down to clear the lintel and rose back to his full, impressive height.

  “You should be pleased to be honored by such august company. It’s not often the Head of Kryth Mahr Intelligence comes to visit local hegemonic rulers. Nothing to say?” he chided Laan, as he strode further into the room followed by two more armored Korin Shai warriors. “I was under the impression, erroneously perhaps, that the Mertiklask were a culture with a stringent and elevated code of hospitality,” Lintorth’s face went rigid. “Was I mistaken? Am I not a welcome guest on Exos Four?” He queried with a cold tone, the menace in his voice bespoke great harm would befall the miscreant unlucky enough to respond incorrectly.

  Laan paled and swallowed hard, trying desperately to moisten his dry mouth.

  His heart pounded as he gazed upon the infamous Kryth Mahr general looming before him. Lintorth Sar, Chief of Domain Intelligence, was a renowned figure within the Domain hierarchy. He ranked just below the Si Lord, and was mentor to the most powerful generals.

  Lintorth stood well above Laan, in influence as well as in physical stature. His chest was at the level of Laan’s eyes. His filigreed armor was worth ten times more than the entire worth of Laan’s income from all his business transactions.

  The Mertiklask felt weak and insignificant under the relentless gaze of Lintorth. Laan had power across the entirety of Exos Four that spread into the surrounding quadrant. Lintorth exercised overt power across the entire breadth of the Kryth Mahr Domain; and, more importantly, did it in a covert manner.

  Laan had mercenaries to do his bidding. Lintorth had cadres of spies, merchants, warriors, and the feared Korin Shai to exercise his will.

  The five of Laan’s bodyguards stood still. They had sense enough to realize that the Kryth that had entered the room were dangerous. The two gray-scaled beings unnerved them with their sinuous movements and their talon-tipped hands that flexed, searching for soft flesh to rend.

  The two other Kryth Mahr, the feared Korin Shai, were armored like Lintorth and moved with an easy, relaxed grace. The energy lances gripped in their hands glowed, smoke wisping from the jagged blades and permeating the air with the scent of recently scorched flesh. Their scornful features showed their casual contempt for the lesser races.

  “Why are you here?” Laan ventured nervously, croaking a little from his dry mouth, “I’ve done nothing to violate Domain law.”

  Lintorth’s eyebrows rose in annoyance. Mocking or genuine, Laan did not know.

  “How did the Takarsis escape the Xrostok lock? Malace! Where is he? He was mine!” Gaining some confidence at Lintorth’s silence, Laan forged recklessly ahead, “I’ve controlled Raffix Run for almost twenty ronns and tithed a generous portion of taxes to both the Domain and Vrae empires.” Laan bristled as his voice rose, “Why did you attack my bonded servants? You have no right to come here and do as you will.”

  Crumpling to the hard floor and writhing in pain, Laan heard the crackling of the energy lance receding and the heavy footfall of a Korin Shai stepping back into his deceptively relaxed stance.

  “Worm,” Lintorth spat. “Your petty dispute with Malace has vexed me.” Lintorth punctuated his displeasure with a punishing kick to Laan’s prone body. “Do you think your paltry, insignificant brawl over this,” Lintorth continued, gesturing out the viewport at the station, “captures my attention?”

  Gasping for air, Laan could not answer; fortunately, because Lintorth did not pause in his tirade,

  “Arlosk, burn me! I swear by the Four Fold Gods that I have no intent on arbitrating a pathetic, mewling squabble between two minor lords on the outer rim. Your fractious fight to rule Exos Four pales in significance to my task.” Turning his back, Lintorth strode across the room as one would avoid excrement in the dirt.

  “Dispose of him.”

  Laan rasped for breath, watching the Korin Shai heft his energy lance in a powerful armored hand and trod purposely towards him. The tendrils of energy cracked on the blade and cascaded hungrily over the Korin Shai’s gauntleted hand. Raising his arm to strike and plunge the lance through Laan Nezgon Zal, the casual effortlessness and total lack of regard for his life unnerved him.

  “Wait.” Laan raised his arm in a feeble at
tempt to stop the death blow. “I can help you, my Lord. Tell me what you want!” The last came out in a screech as Laan squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his whole body, waiting for the pain of the brutal strike.

  Something flicked, like small probing fingers against his abdomen. It was painful and almost ticklish. Cracking open his eyes, Laan reluctantly looked. The blade of the energy lance hovered, unwavering, a scant hand’s width above his abdomen. The tendrils of energy arced from the blade and danced against the surface of his tunic. Behind the lance, a Korin Shai waited to carry out his master’s will.

  Chuckling low in his throat, Lintorth said, “Tell me, Laan Nezgon Zaal, do you hold your life so precious that you debase yourself, squealing like a youngling trying to avoid the whip?” Turning from the viewport, Lintorth walked a slow, circuitous route around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “Are you a Mertiklask who covets wealth? Power? Yes, of course you are,” answered Lintorth, explaining the obvious to an unseen audience, “At this moment, what is of primary importance?” The manner of his speech was meant to be mocking, such that Laan would be goaded to respond, even if he knew it wasn’t in his best interest to do so.

  Laan was cautious, extremely so, as death was centimeters above him. “Life, my Lord.” He surreptitiously gazed about the room, trying to scan for the Yadlith. “But,” he added hastily, “what is life without power and riches to implement one’s will and desires, my Lord? Or facilitate the will of their superiors?”

  Turning back, Lintorth strode towards Laan with a predator’s dangerous grace, “So, you are not completely stupid. Stupid enough to engage the Korin Shai, perhaps, but possessing enough wisdom to placate me in a desperate ploy to spare your life and the life of your clan.” Grasping Laan’s tunic in his powerful hand, Lintorth lifted the Mertiklask off the floor until his feet dangled. Lintorth pulled him close, his eyes flickering with dangerous intent.

  “Show me your vault, open it, and you may yet live,” Lintorth growled.

  DATA CELL 7

  The feeble and forgotten facility was in no better shape after the assault that rescued Ramek.

  Voskal Lat’s cruiser was stationed at the last good docking port left on the twisted hunk of metal that still orbited the moon.

  Inside the hanger bay were the two surviving Comondons. They were stacking equipment in the center of the room amongst dead Kryth soldiers.

  “What happened here?” Voskal queried as he entered from the docking tunnel.

  The bull beasts stopped what they were doing.

  The taller one answered, “We got attacked.”

  Voskal approached with a quirky smile, “Yes, I know that. I want to know the details of what happened here, as I am reporting for Lintorth Sar.”

  “I told Sontar. He be here soon,” the bull grunted.

  “I’m not interested in Sontar. He’s a reckless fool. Tell me what happened.”

  The taller bull looked over to his comrade who just shrugged his shoulders.

  “Follow this way.” The bull gestured.

  Voskal followed him down the corridor, past the scorched wall and charred door frame of a room.

  Voskal peered in to see the mass of Kryth bodies huddled on the floor. The bull pointed into the room as they past. “These ones dead.”

  Voskal just shook his head at the bull’s obvious observation.

  They came to the center chamber and entered.

  The chains still dangled from the ceiling above and the yellow ooze pool.

  Voskal Lat looked about the room. “Was the Human here?”

  “Yes. He was here. Humans came and got him from Mortok.”

  “So, they took all the evidence?”

  “Only him.”

  Voskal turned. “What about his suit?”

  The bull lumbered over to a grate in the floor. He pointed.

  “No take. Nothing left of Human suit.”

  Voskal approached the grate and bent down to inspect the small black residue on the floor.

  He moved his fingers through the goo.

  “Carbon,” he observed, pausing before continuing, “What happened to it?”

  “It dissolve itself.”

  Voskal stood and turned to the bull, “What do you mean it dissolved itself?”

  “It vanish. That what left.”

  “Fascinating.”

  Voskal walked the room, thinking out loud to himself. “Sontar is a fool. How could he leave this valuable evidence in the hands of a bunch of torntas? His incompetence is complete.”

  The bull snorted at the slight, “I don’t know why you so angry. Sontar has other one.”

  Voskal Lat froze in place.

  He turned and approached the bull, asking, “Other one?”

  “Other Human.”

  “Where?”

  “We have on landing base on ore moon. He in stasis tube there.”

  “Take me to him now,” Voskal ordered.

  ∞∞∞

  The Kryth shuttle came to a stop on top of a landing platform on the ore moon’s surface.

  An elevator rose to meet the bottom of the craft.

  A door opened and Voskal walked out of the lowered shaft that exited into the base.

  “Where is he?” Voskal asked.

  The bull approached from behind pointing, “There, behind crates.”

  Voskal rushed over, finding the Human in a stasis tube just as the Comondon had said. He saw the suit next to him on a stand. It was mangled with various blood stains.

  “Quickly!” Voskal ordered to a Kryth soldier, “I want a cryo-stat tube immediately.”

  Upon the order, the Kryth soldier ran back to the elevator that had brought them down.

  Voskal walked around the suit, “Why didn’t this one disintegrate?”

  “We don’t know,” the bull answered.

  “I thought this one had died?” Voskal asked.

  “So did Sontar. They heal. Don’t know how, but heal well. This one not much alive.”

  The elevator gate slammed open as the soldier rolled in a round disc along the floor.

  “Place it under the armor, quickly,” Voskal ordered.

  The soldier rolled the device under the armor as Voskal instructed.

  Voskal leaned down and activated a switch.

  A second round disc separated itself from the first and began to rise up. The circular ring stopped at the top of the hanging armor on the stand.

  Voskal activated another switch on the top ring.

  Lights flashed and beeped on the control pad as a blue shield descended down to make contact with the first disc on the floor.

  Another beep sounded.

  The descending shield had made a tube between the rings.

  A liquid gel began to fill from the bottom ring. It rose to meet the armor.

  Voskal detached the half-submersed armor from the stand and dropped it into the goo.

  Once the gel reached the top of the second ring, a final button was activated by Voskal.

  The gel instantly froze within the shield barrier wall.

  The Comondon looked puzzled. “You freeze armor?”

  “It’s to stop whatever process makes the suit dissolve. Hopefully, this will work.”

  The bull’s confused look did not change.

  “I want both of these tubes on my ship immediately,” Voskal said to the Kryth soldier.

  “What about Sontar?” the bull snorted.

  Voskal smirked. “Sontar can do the clean up around here from his ill-conceived plan.”

  “He not happy.”

  “Have him take it up with Lintorth Sol. . . Sar, I mean,” Voskal said, turning from the bull and walking towards the elevator shaft out of sight.

  DATA CELL 8

  Kason approached the main Reaver technology facility from the landing pad atop a four story structure.

  The building seemed small and insignificant compared to its surroundings. Brush and foliage of an open field lay around the edifice in all d
irections which seemed to go on for miles. Trees lined the far perimeter with rolling hills in the distance, making for a calm picturesque scene amongst the wilderness on the second moon of Janus, Veriton.

  Kason knew the important part of the Reaver facility was down below the ground, the place he headed now to visit Ramek.

  The landing pad had two stairwells for guests to enter; each ran down a few levels from the pad to an entrance.

  Kason walked past the stairs and straight to a large, black, metal wall of the structure’s frontal façade that came up to meet the landing pad.

  He placed his palm on the smooth, black surface, which reflected back his image and that of the shuttle behind him.

  The wall started to draw a white energy. These sparks of light emanated from various sections of the wall, swirling towards Kason’s outstretched palm. The particles formed around his hand, making a silhouette of light.

  Kason removed his palm, the outline of it remained against the wall forming in a white glow.

  A tone sounded.

  The pinpoints of light receded back into the black surface from whence they came, vanishing just as they appeared.

  A section of wall dropped down into the floor, exposing a hidden walkway.

  Kason entered and walked to a lift as the wall closed behind him. The lift descended down into the facility.

  After a few moments, the silent elevator stopped and the door opened.

  Ahead of Kason was a long, wide hallway. It was made of the same black, reflective material of the wall outside on the landing pad; similar to the Rage’s interior walkways.

  Kason continued down the corridor.

  White lighting came from the wall joints on either side of the walls to illuminate the corridor.

  The lights flickered for a moment before stabilizing.

  Kason stopped at the waning power.

  The lights blinked again then went out. The hallway was pitch black.

  Kason stood still for a moment before the lights flicked back on.

  He looked around at the odd occurrence, continuing down the corridor.