by K A Carter
“I want the bulk of your forces to place here. Wait for further orders before beginning the siege on Mulaya. I want a simultaneous action,” Thalus had it all worked out. A master strategy that only he knew the full details of. Hortogon possibly also knew, but that wasn’t S’tiri’s concern.
In the coming time, war was on the verge. It may have already been started and S’tiri was only just know seeing it for what it was. The real war. The one that will end them all. Xefacus. The name rang clear without out any strings of doubt. Whatever it was, was on the verge of being released.
As the meeting neared to an end. Each of the leaders rose, exchanging their powerful glances. “S’tiri,” Hortogon said as he approached from his seat. “Join me in the medical lab.” The two of them walked back toward the hall. Garrek stood there waiting.
“Your next mission,”
“Yes,” he said, hiding behind his hood. If Hortogon could see the full extent of his face, he’d know the indoctrination had worn off.
“Lur is a fringe planet with more resources we desire. You are to journey there. Most importantly, undetected. We don’t want to alert Terrondians to what we are doing,”
“Very well.”
“Once retrieved report to me.”
“I believe I have much to do then, Commander.” S’tiri said as he strayed away from him, signaling Garrek toward the lift.
“S’tiri,” he said again, and paused for a moment. “I expect a report in from you once you reach Lur.”
S’tiri nodded through his cloak and entered the lift with Garrek. His thoughts racing. It was apparent. Either the Draul had no clue of the worn-out indoctrination they had shrouded his thoughts with, or they didn’t care. It was a worrisome to imagine either possibility.
“Are you alright?” Garrek asked, colloquially. He spoke to S’tiri’s back.
He thought about turning around, he even motioned his head so that Garrek could hear him better.
“Yes,” he sighed. “We need to leave now. Call Illa to have the ship ready when we get there.” Garrek didn’t bat an eye at the request. After all, he was under orders of the credits. Handsome fees for the services he and the other mercs rendered. It went without saying that he would follow anywhere the credits were, otherwise the life of a contracted merc was just boring.
The next destination was Lur a desolate planet. One that held vital resources according to Thalus. However, S’tiri had no intentions of going there now. Whatever physiological alteration he had gone through, had worn off. Now he was snapped out of the hold that he had been under. S’tiri wondered what it was they had done to him, and if it was something could come back as easily as it faded. There was no clear answer as to what it was, but it was certainly rooted in the injections he had been given. S’tiri could only imagine the number of people that had fallen victim to it in the pass. Not counting the Elassi, they were wicked decades ago. Indoctrination was unnecessary. Elassi had been vying for the Element M. Although extremely rare, the stockpile that rested beneath much of Mulaya and its moons made it a prime target. Unlike much that of the Moranthians or Terrondians, or any of the more minor civilizations that dotted nearby space surrounding the Mulaya home system, Elassi were to dim to enquire about trading. Instead ensuing a perpetual state of war for the last hundred years.
∆∆∆
S’tiri was safely back aboard and well on his way. The crew of mercs weren’t exactly ecstatic about the previous terms they had been under, but once he explained what exactly the Draul were and what their plans were, none of them batted an eye against the change of plans.
S’tiri was on his own now. Only left with a ship, a bought crew, and a bunker in the lower bowel of the ship full of Moranthian credits. What S’tiri wanted to do was quite the contrary to what he knew he had to do. It was back to Seheron. He needed to meet with the merc dealer one last time. His lapse of control over his thoughts had sparked the leader in him. He had seen the horrors that were coming. Those of which knew now would effect everyone that inhabited the known galaxy. The more people he had on his side, the likelier he could succeed.
There was no doubt that it would be difficult alone. If he managed to muster up enough courage to go back home, he would join them in the fight; the one that had already begun. In between time, the warp jump to Seheron and over to Mulaya in the next quadrant would take roughly four days. It needed to be done if the mess he had made was to be salvaged. That wasn’t factoring the time spent convincing the merc dealer to do more business with him. She had been skittish the last time they encountered each other.
∆∆∆
There it was once again. Left to its grimy existence; to rot. It was a guttering spire and it functioned pretty well in light of it. It would make sense that the Draul leave it to its own turmoil fondness. Besides, they sought to indoctrinate those whom thought to be righteous enough.
S’tiri slammed a thin chit on the fiber blue table that had chipped edges and cracks from drinks getting thrown down during drinking games. Shadows casted on it from patrons staggering through the cantina. A piece left from the person whom had used the table prior lodged in between a crack that had grown on the tail side of it.
“There is a ton more like this one in a vault.” S’tiri said. “I need everything you have,”
She looked at him with a squinty glance. He had thrown away his original garments. She could see his eyes now, she could really read him; see the brands and scars. The history written on his face.
She stood from her seat, leaning over the table. A hiss whispered its way from her tusked lips. She smiled grimly. “Very well.”
Chapter 24: Jericho
It had been a veritably testing spell of events to say the least. The crew in shambles. Once again, they gathered in the galley. It had been untouched by the Ixorians but had already been damaged from the rock the Icarus took getting caught in their grasp.
From the looks on their faces, it was only a stone throw away from mental breakdown time. Jericho limped his way into the middle of them. His right leg hardly cooperated and the bandages Mellor had put on the electric burn wounds nearly made it worse. It was uncomfortable and his resolve was too withering to disguise any of the pain.
“You okay Cap?” said Keon. He might’ve been the only one that didn’t look so distraught.
Jericho nodded holding his side like his intestine were bumping against his ribs, that’s what it felt like. “Guys, I have to be honest with you,” he grunted. “I was pretty certain we wouldn’t make it out. And we almost didn’t.”
“No offense Cap’n but let me take the reins on this,” Scud hopped up and motioned to his Captain. “Cap’n you look like’ya can barely stand. And as XO, I am deciding you unfit for command,” Scud said, patting his captain on the back softly.
Jericho chuckled at the comment and gritted at the pain. Scud smiled and waved Mellor over to help. “Get Cap to the med-bay.”
Mellor rested him on his shoulders. It gave minimal relief. The worst was yet to come. He didn’t want to go down there. It meant seeing the love of his life close to death.
His hardened shell had been cracked long ago. Everything that Titan had made him; that wall he had built up. It all broke down when he met Anda. Seeing her bruised and wounded made him feel as though he needed to prepare building it up again. He hoped the opposite.
In the medical bay, the beds and pantries were cleaned up to a point where they were manageable. Out of the ten beds that lined the walls, five on each side, three of them were occupied. One of the five beds from the doors had the lifeless body of Luke that lay still. A cover masking his deathliness. Morris stood over it, sulking and barely holding back the tears he hadn’t been able to shed for his brother. One he had killed to protect in the past. He leaned over the bed, pulling down the cloth for one last look at his brother’s face. It would compile with the memories of him that he’d have to keep close.
Jericho slowly lowered himself onto the main operating table. It was
in the middle of the room. A bright light shined on it blinding him, he closed his eyes for good measure. It was bad enough he hurt all over. A subtle cold permeated through Jericho’s shirt. He jolted at it and closed his eyes.
“Alright Cap, let’s take a look,” Mellor said. He took a laser to the already damaged clothes and began removing them. As he ripped the shirt away each wound was clearly displayed. The staffs had not only shocked but penetrated his skin.
“How bad is it Mel?” Jericho asked, a quiver in his voice.
Mellor paused for a moment, too focused on examining the wounds. What had been seconds, slowly turned into minutes. “It’s bad Al,” he finally said. “Multiple lacerations to the stomach lining with areas of internal bleeding. You’re lucky you’re not dead.”
“Well then,” Jericho said. He felt uneasy now. He always did in medical areas. Titan was home to the grimmest hospitals. Doctors without any credentials taking a stab at healing the many ailments the planet provided. Carbon Dioxide scarring of the throat, sun rash – both of which were leftover symptoms of terraforming - and the slew of undercity drugs that made their way in from fledgling colonies like Triton and Miranda; the criminal capitals of The Brink.
“I have to keep you in here at least a week Cap. Maybe longer.”
“Just give me some meds and I’ll be fine,” Jericho attempted to get up from the bed. Neither of his limbs agreeing with the action.
Mellor opened a compartment just below the operating table. He pulled out a piece of plastic that had two pronged ends. One with an open side and the other containing a needle. A nob with a tiny hole the size of a pin rested just left of Jericho’s arm. Mellor pulled at it inserting into the piece of plastic and the needle into Jericho’s arm. He flinched a bit.
Operating table had a motored movement system that could lift the bed and move the patient to one of the free beds. Mellor slid it and watched as it automatically placed Jericho into a free bed. Jericho could all ready feel himself slowly slipping into a sleep.
“I’ve pumped a little bit of morphine. That should keep you comfortable,” Mello said as he leaned over.
∆∆∆
Jericho awoke to his love laid next to him, bearing wounds far worse than his. She had been sedated too. An intricate intravenous stemmed from her right arm feeding into small compartment on the wall. Her bruises swelled and her eyelids shading the rapid movement that were hidden beneath them. She was alive. That was most important. To see the slight but noticeable chest cave in with each breath was enough to settle his nerves. Settle them enough that he could get some fairly needed rest.
Though he had made the first bed occupied, Luke dead in the third, and Anda in the second, the fourth bed was occupied by Zen. She was near death as well.
Her sacrifices had changed Jericho’s opinion of her for the better and the crews for that matter. Amidst the difficulty she faced trying to gain the crew’s trust, she had at least surely done so in the eyes of Jericho and Araime. Had it not been for her, Araime most certainly wouldn’t have made it.
The drugs did enough to make the pain stagnate, much of it not going away but not getting worse either. Still, Jericho’s mind was racing far too much to get any rest from it. Turned on his side, a shadow was casted behind him under the lights. He shifted to see Araime at his bedside.
“Scud is doing a good job so far,” she said. She grabbed for his hand consolably.
“What?”
“And Anda will be okay, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m hoping so,” he said with a grit through his throat.
“I have ensured that she will survive her wounds.” Araime turned her back and examined Anda as she lied there, peaking at her wounds and gliding her hand over her body. “I need you to heal quicker though. I have done what I can with meditation. The rest of your healing must come from you, Alfred.”
“Please don’t call me that,” Jericho responded.
“It is your name,”
He didn’t respond but instead rolled his eyes. Thankfully, she couldn’t see it. “So, you have healing powers too now?”
She didn’t respond right away. “Bodies are merely matter. If focused on with a form of meditation, it can be healed. And many other things.”
Araime spent more of her time in the infirmary than she did among the rest of the crew. She had a growing fondness for Jericho’s company. Some sort of father figure, Jericho assumed. He hadn’t liked it but in light of his recovery he figured the company wouldn’t hurt. After her consistent visits, Jericho finally began to enjoy it.
On the fifth day, he was back and standing. Mellor argued with him stubbornly on his requests to walk about the Icarus. The others would come down once and a while but were tending to matters equally as important. Jericho knew they were. He had the thought of asking where they had warp jumped to but decided that the ship being in one piece was enough assurance the ship was safe.
Scud had come down on day six. A word about what the situation was and where they would go from there. Although they had escaped the likes of Zael, it was surely only a matter of time before he and his singularity would be in pursuit; if they weren’t already. Jumping brought them to a desolate system. It had seemed to be no more inhabitable than the empty space that dark matter and energy shifted in between each planet. One vibrant sun and a gargantuan asteroid formation were all that inhabited the system. No name on its file within the navigation charts. Scud was clever though, he kept them there until Jericho would be fit enough to resume command. All of the jumps thus far brought with each of them an encounter. This one was to be treated no different. The ship could have taken them there for no reason, but that was for him to decide. It was possible that something in the belt formation held clues as to why it was on the path.
After a tough recovery process, Jericho was back to himself, only baring minor reminders of the pain he had once felt. Anda had awoke and was bedridden. But it was still nice to see her back to her smiling self. Zen now next to her was pronounced in a coma. Mellor had to induce it. As he put it, she suffered intense trauma to the brain. Her sacrifice for saving Araime. As the Icarus airlock doors closed she waited and took a pounding of gravity on the outer airlock doors in order to get her back aboard. It had not affected Araime, but that didn’t surprise Jericho. Without Zen’s quick thinking, Araime would’ve been another torture victim for Zael.
With his returned health, Jericho wanted to study the details of the navigation information before he pursued any other actions. It was all accessible now; thanks to the efforts of Freya and Gideon. Countless hours had to have been dedicated to it.
Glossing over them, the data was quite easily pieced together. Chart after chart, map after map. The Icarus had a plotted destination on it that strewed through two of the first maps. That didn’t explain any of the others. For all he knew, the planets he was looking at were home to dozens of other civilizations. He’d likely never know. It didn’t matter for the time being. What did was finding out why they were here, in this system and how it would help them get back home, to humans that, for the most part, wouldn’t try to kill them.
“Stop just outside of the closest ring,” Jericho said. Freya responded in action, keying in the maneuvers until the Icarus was approximately twenty thousand kilometers out. It was as close as she could put it without needing some sort of drift table. A little too close. “Sit tight, we’ll take the jumper the rest of the way.”
“What do you think you’ll find?” Freya asked, looking back at him with emerald eyes.
“I don’t know. Answers I hope.”
Morris and Keon gathered in the hangar suiting up. Jericho threw his helmet by the pilot seat on the jumper. The others locked in. There was nothing that gave the impression of somewhere that would pose as a place to land. Morris had brought two carbines and a few air tanks just in case. Jericho brought the jumper out and headed towards the belt horizon. It wasn’t thick on the outside ring. Large asteroids with cavernous holes in them shift
ed almost unnoticeably slow. The sun itself was red and pulsating. It permeated the cabin well, Jericho switching on a window dampener that gave a tint to the jumper in order to supplement piloting blind.
One after one, each asteroid he flew the jumper by vibrated. A byproduct of the sun that the rings had formed around. Its gravity had created a ring hundreds of thousands of miles out from the sun. Yet it felt quite close. “See anything?” Jericho said. Keon was using the scanners to detect any anomalies within the rocks.
“None so far,” the young boy.
Morris set his eyes to the windows. All he could see were boulders that made the jumper look like a speck of dust. Their size reminded Jericho of the giant Federal cruisers he had once gazed upon in the orbit of Titan. It was just before he had left there. Seeking refuge away from the painstakingly wretched life he had once lived. Often under the guise of petty street criminal. He wouldn’t let himself believe that was all he had ever been.
The com link in jumper was connected back to the link in the cockpit. So long as he stayed in a relatively appropriate range, he’d be able to tightbeam communication with Freya. There would be delay, but it was better than nothing. Everything that the three of them said could be heard in the small earbud interface that Freya was using. She monitored them on the displays that included a scan of the asteroid field perimeter. Likely nothing different from what Keon was looking at.
Her gentle voice chattered over the com, shaky, something urgent to say. “Guys you’ve got a bogie heading straight toward you.”