by A A Warren
“Your Highness, preliminary analysis still hasn’t determined the cause of the accident. We’ve had to seal off the entire hangar to prevent implosion. I must stress, you should not—”
Lucian looked up at the captain. His face was pale and his voice quavered a bit, but his eyes held a glint of steely determination. “How many did we lose, Javis?”
The older man gave him a concerned look. “Your Highness, I—”
“How many?”
Javis sighed. “Four-hundred and twenty-five souls were onboard the transport when the tube collapsed.”
The prince shook his head. “Refugees. Families, elderly and children. If I am to lead my forces into battle against Kyr, I can’t hide in my quarters while death claims my subjects.”
“Your Highness!” The guards stood at attention, as a young man in a rumpled technician’s uniform jogged up to them. His hair was plastered to his face by sweat, and dark circles hung beneath his frantic eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
Skidding to a stop a few feet away, he gave the heavily-armed guards a nervous glance, then bowed before the prince. “Prince Lucian, we’ve received a message on a coded channel. It’s from the Star Claw.”
Lucian glanced up at Javis. “Salena. She must have news!”
The Commander nodded. “Officer, take us to a secure terminal.”
The young man bowed again. “This way, Your Highness.”
The boots of the guards echoed through the corridor as they marched after the technician. He led them down a smaller service passage, and through a glowing security checkpoint. They stopped, and allowed the scanner beam to authenticate his identity.
“SUBJECT CONFIRMED: SAMUL DORAN. TECHNICAL OFFICER. ACCESS GRANTED.”
“How long have you been on duty, Officer Doran?” Javis asked.
The security door hissed open, and Samul led the others inside a small, circular room. “Forty-eight hours, sir. I apologize for my appearance. We were storing fuel cylinders for the other transports in the hangar bay. When the force tunnel collapsed, the backlash set off the chain reaction. The other cylinders exploded. We’ve got cracks and field failures radiating through all the structural supports. I’ve been supervising the repair mechs day and night, but there's still a lot of work left to do.”
“You’ve done well, officer,” Lucian said, as he examined the holo screens that floated along the walls of the room. “Javis, after this, see that this man is relieved.”
Samul nodded as he sat at a control panel, and tapped in a response code on the glowing keyboard. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’m patching in the transmission now.”
The screens flickered to life, displaying a series of holograms along the walls of the room. Lucian grinned, as he saw a pair of fierce yellow eyes and a long furry snout floating in the air before him. “Zobo,” he said. “It’s good to see your face again. How goes the mission? Have you made contact with—”
Zobo growled, cutting him off. “Salena and the others are en-route as we speak, Your Highness. But they sent me back to the ship to warn you. We were intercepted on Bakala. Armed fanatics unleashed some kind of dark energy tech. It appeared to be a smaller version of the weapon that destroyed Hadros.”
Commander Javis turned to face the nearest hologram. “Fanatics? What do you mean?”
Zobo shifted in his seat. “They claimed to be followers of Daizon.”
“Daizon,” the prince hissed. “The being Sartarus worships.”
Zobo’s ears twitched, and his lips curled up in a snarl. “Exactly. Sartarus sent his followers after us. There must be a security leak somewhere in your forces.”
The wolfish alien leaned forward, and his eyes narrowed. He squinted at the green haze outside the windows of the small room.
“Your Highness… are you still on Vendaru? You were supposed to leave days ago.”
Lucian shot Javis a concerned glance, then turned back to the hologram. “Before my ship could take off, we had a malfunction in the launch tube. The forcefield collapsed, with a refugee transport inside. We… we lost many lives.”
Javis stepped forward, and stood at attention next to the prince. “Zobo, I’m afraid the hanger bay has suffered extreme damage. The force tube system is completely offline. We’re trapped here until we can get it fixed. Vendaru is a gas giant. Without the launch tube, the atmospheric pressure outside will crush any ship that tries to take off or land.”
The image of Zobo flickered in the air. “This can’t be a coincidence, your Highness. That target was no accident… it was sabotage. You’re now sitting ducks down there.”
The prince stared up at the holograms and clenched his fist. “If that’s true, then your mission is more critical than ever. Please keep me informed of your progress.”
Zobo gave the prince a casual salute, then leant forward in his chair. “Will do, Your Highness. We’re working as fast as we can. Good luck.”
The holograms flickered out.
Lucian stared at the static on the screens for a few seconds. No one in the room spoke.
Finally, Javis set a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Your Highness… what are your orders?”
The prince took a deep breath. He turned and faced the two men. “We need to divert all resources from the launch tube repairs. Use those mechs and men to shore up structural integrity around the complex.”
Javis clicked his heels together, and lifted his wrist unit to his mouth. “Yes, Your Highness.” He began barking orders into his comm unit, as the pair marched towards the door.
As the door hissed open, Lucian turned and faced Samul. The technician’s exhausted face had turned pale. His eyes were wide with panic.
“Samul, send a coded message to all remnants of the fleet. Tell them to make their way here at best possible speed. Like it or not, Kyr has left us no choice… this is where we make our final stand.”
The frightened technician nodded. “At once Your Highness. But…”
His voice trailed off.
“What is it?” Lucian asked. “Speak your mind, officer.”
“After the massacre at Hadros, the fleet is scattered. What… what if they can’t make it here in time?”
The prince turned his gaze back to the blank holo screens. Static and white noise flickered across the glowing panels.
“There’s nothing we can do about that, Samul,” he finally answered. “If Salena and her team can’t find the key to stopping this weapon, it won’t matter anyway. It will be Hadros all over again. All we can do is hope for the best. And hold out as long as we can.”
Samul sat up straighter. Some color seemed to flow back into his face. “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll alert you if I hear anything else.”
Lucian nodded and left the room. Samul’s fingers danced across his keyboard, sending a coded message hurtling across the galaxy.
Chapter Fifteen
True to Salena’s word, the group was able to hide their faces and blend in with the panicked crowd at the next station. Armed security guards monitored the exits, stopping random passengers and taking statements. But there was no way to stem the tide of people flowing through the gates and into the winding tunnels outside. Talon muscled a path for them through the crowd. Once they were outside, they piled into a battered hover taxi parked near the station.
After a brief and turbulent ride, the taxi split off from the flow of traffic, and plunged into a narrow tunnel. Talon, Salena and Avra huddled in the backseat as the vehicle raced through the dark passage. Then with a sudden lurch, it shot up and made its way to the asteroid’s surface.
Talon glanced out the window at the buildings nestled between the rock spires, and perched on the edge of plunging chasms. He turned to Salena. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
The woman nodded. “Aroyas and I set up this meeting weeks ago. He’s hiding here under an assumed name, Rogan Thermae.” She looked up at the driver, watching his bark-covered face reflected in the rear view screen. The flora
l alien paid them no mind. It bleated a cry out the window, and shook its leafy fist at another vehicle. The taxi swerved around the slow moving traffic, and continued down the street. “I gave the driver the address for our meeting. Someplace called the Cerulean Abyss.”
“Sounds like a tavern of some kind,” Talon said.
“In this place?” Avra muttered. “I’m betting a strip club is more likely.”
Before he could answer, the vehicle lurched to a stop, and lowered to the ground.
“We’re here,” Salena declared, climbing out the side door. Talon followed. He offered a hand to Avra, but she ignored it, and clambered out on her own.
“Where’s here?” she asked.
A massive concrete dome rose up before them. The bulbous structure dwarfed the other buildings along the narrow street. A few smaller domes branched off from the main hub, connected by a series of tunnels and walkways.
A large sign hovered in the air above the arched entrance. Its holo projector appeared to be malfunctioning. The glowing letters flickered and blinked against the dark sky.
“Cerulean Abyss,” Salena read aloud. “This must be it.”
Talon shouldered past her, headed for the building. “Let’s go,” he called back to the two women. “We don’t have much time. I like a good fight as much as the next man, but I’d prefer we take our leave, before a legion of centurions lands at our feet.”
“Someone’s a bit over confidant,” Avra muttered under her breath as they hurried after him.
“He did well enough on the train,” Salena replied, shooting her a sly smile. “Besides, you should see his—”
“We won’t find what were looking for out here!” Talon shouted back, as he bounded up the stairs of the main entrance.
“You were saying?” Avra said, raising her eyebrow.
Salena’s smile stretched into a Cheshire grin. “We’ll talk about it later.”
They followed him up the stairs, and entered the dome.
Talon stepped into a large foyer with a domed ceiling. Several darkened hallways linked up with the circular chamber, flanked by stone columns. A chipped, worn mosaic of blue and green crystals spiraled above him, the glinting shards reflecting the soft light of the glow spheres.
His nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. The atmosphere inside was heady with a mix of spices, scented oil and strange chemicals. In front of him, a heavyset alien slumped against a wall, next to an archway lit with blue neon. The creature's four pale blue eyes perched above a pig-like snout. He wore a rumpled security guard's uniform, and a pistol hung from his belt. A pair of frosted glass doors blocked the archway behind him, hiding whatever lay beyond.
Talon heard faint sounds in the distance. Music of some kind, and laughter. Splashing…
Avra and Salena stepped up behind him. Salena looked up at the ceiling, and sniffed the steamy air.
“Cerulean Abyss,” she said, arching a single eyebrow. “I should have known.”
“What is this place?” Talon asked as he eyed the guard. The alien's blubbery lips grinned, as he read a text conversation on his wrist display.
Avra’s nose scrunched up, and her eyes squinted. ‘Don’t tell me—”
A group of women pranced from one of the side corridors. They were a mix of human and alien, and they were laughing and speaking to one another in hushed tones. Water dripped from their hair, antenna and other appendages. The sleek curves of their bodies were hidden by wraps of damp silk and fluffy towels. One of them gave Talon a sly smile as she sidled past.
The guard nodded as they passed under the archway. The frosted glass slid open, and Talon caught a glimpse of the chamber beyond. He saw writhing, naked bodies immersed in liquid pools. The view was obscured by a haze of steam and vapor, wafting through the air.
The glass doors slid shut once again.
“This is a bath house,” Salena said. “Come, we must hurry. Let me do the talking.”
They walked up to the archway. Two of the guard's eyes flicked up at them. He shuffled away from the wall, and stood at attention. His lower eyes opened wide with surprise, while the top pair ogled the two women. His hand drifted to the pulse pistol hanging from his belt, as his drooping gut fell over the waistband of his breeches. He licked his thick, purple lips. “Chobo, Chobo... Hold on. Where do you think you’re going?”
Salena regarded him with an imperious stare. “We’re here to see Rogan Thermae. He’s expecting me.”
The alien's lecherous gaze traveled up and down her body. “Rogan must have made a big score, if he can fly in a lovely bird like you,” he grunted. "But I can’t let you back there like that.”
“I beg your pardon?”
One of the guard's eyes shot a nervous glance towards Talon and Avra. “The Cerulean Abyss has two rules, ma’am. No weapons…”
He turned all four blue orbs back to Salena and smiled. “And no clothes.”
Talon stepped forward. He brushed his cloak aside, revealing the handle of his axe protruding over his broad shoulders. “Enough of this foolishness. If you want my weapons, come take them. I’ll bury them in your skull, and make the job of finding them easier.”
Avra said nothing, but her hand slid behind her back and grabbed one of her blades. It sprung open in her hands, and she held it at her side.
The guard gripped his pistol, but he did not draw. His four beady eyes met Talon’s glare. “Now see here, I can’t just—”
“In the last standard month, I’ve slain a dozen men in the arena,” Talon said through a predatory grin. “How much blood have you spilled?” He squinted, and read the name tag pinned to the guard’s uniform. “Mord?”
Before anyone could move, the frosted door slid open once again. Talon looked up, as a beautiful woman sauntered towards them. The jeweled heels of her sandals clicked across the floor as she approached. An open robe of sheer white silk draped from her shoulders. The diaphanous garment clung to the curves of her pale ivory flesh. Beneath the robe, a belt of golden metal plates, linked together by slim chains, looped around her waist.
She wore nothing else.
Her ice blue eyes darted from Talon, to Avra, and finally settled on Salena. Her frosted blue lips curled into a smile, but there was little warmth in the expression. Instead, Talon noted something calculating in her gaze, as if she was sizing up each of them up as potential threats.
“There’s no need for unpleasantness,” she said in a soothing voice. A golden headband held her long, platinum hair up in a tight bun, and shimmered in the light of the foyer. An intricate pattern was etched in the gleaming metal.
The same symbols as the band Avra wears, Talon thought.
“My name is Jula,” the woman continued. “Thermae is expecting you.” She gave the guard a withering glance from the corner of her eye. “These people are guests of Rogan Thermae. He welcomes them to his private pool. All but her…”
The woman raised a delicate wrist, dripping with gold bangles. She pointed a finger at Avra.
“The disgraced one must remain here.”
Talon stepped towards the woman known as Jula. “Avra is with us.”
The woman tilted her head, but did not step back. Her voice did not waver as she regarded him with her icy blue stare.
“She is not welcome in my presence. She is ignofacci… Cast out from the Sorari. She is not fit to crawl in my footsteps.”
Sorari, Talon thought. The ancient sisterhood of female warriors. Avra’s blade, her martial arts skill… He turned around. “Avra, are you—”
“No,” she snapped, glaring at Jula. She flipped her blade closed and slid the curved weapon back into her belt. Then she hooked her thumbs into her leather harness and sighed. “Not anymore. Let’s get this over with. I’ll wait here.”
“Are you sure?” Salena asked, furrowing her brow.
Avra bit her lip, then nodded. “Yeah. Not a bad idea for one of us to guard the entrance, anyway.”
Talon grit his teeth, but said nothing. He turn
ed back to Jula. The woman regarded him once again with her cold smile. “Shall we?”
She turned and headed back through the doors. Talon and Salena followed the woman through the archway.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered, as he stared at the taut muscles of Jula's legs, moving beneath the sheer robe.
Salena brushed a strand of cobalt hair behind her ear. “Then keep your eyes off Jula’s thighs, and try to watch our backs," she whispered
Talon shot her a sideways glance, then grinned. “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”
Salena kept her eyes focused forward, and did not return his smile. “My people don’t believe in jealousy. But we do have some experience with betrayal.”
Behind them, Avra turned and looked away as the doors hissed shut.
Jula led them on a meandering path through the massive central dome. Several large pools surrounded them, and steam wafted up from their liquid surfaces. Scantily clad attendants poured salts and chemicals into each pool, giving the fluid within different colors and consistencies. Bodies of all shapes and sizes cavorted in the colorful baths.
Talon spotted a trio of shimmering Angelions caressing each other in a smaller pool. A slick, gelatinous purple oil clung to their skin as they writhed over each other’s bodies. Sprinting past them, a yellow humanoid yanked a towel from his waist. The naked alien dove into a long, rectangular trough of steaming water. The surface of the pool was slick with a film of oil and foam. Particles of discarded food and refuse littered the water.
Jula sidestepped around the liquid that splashed across their path. Talon wrinkled his nose, as an overpowering mix of smells assaulted his nostrils. Looking up, he saw an array of tanks bolted to the ceiling, dispersing scented steam into the air. The perfumed mist could not hide the stench of sweat, or the pungent mélange of body odors that wafted up from the pools.