The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption

by YS Pascal

  Fortunately for us, we were able to identify a holo server with comm access which looked more familiar in a far corner of the suite. Matshi sat in front of the holo’s console and, with all twenty-four fingers bustling, he soon sent out a dispersed general distress call through broadband channels. If something had happened to Eikhus, we could still be rescued if someone else picked up our signal.

  “Are you able to determine Eikhus’s contact metrics?” asked Spud.

  “Working on it,” Matshi said.

  “Shh!” I whispered. “I thought I heard something!”

  Matshi rested his digits and we listened. Nothing. I shrugged and Matshi returned to his task, with Spud and me looking over his shoulders.

  “Ha!” Matshi finally exclaimed. “Success! I’ve got his ship and all I need to do is—”

  “Move away from the console!” the gruff voice barked.

  We all looked up to see Plionarctos/Pallas. Our greetings froze in our throats when we also saw that he was carrying a stun gun set to kill, aimed directly at Matshi’s head.

  * * *

  “Pallas!” I cried, “It’s us. Help us!” Unlike Spud, Matshi, and me, the Megaran hadn’t had catascope training. I prayed that Benedict had not been able to permanently turn Pallas against us, against Zygfed.

  “That’s enough.” Pallas’s tone was cold, and I physically felt myself shiver.

  “I said move away from the console, Matshi,” the pseudo-Ursan continued. “Everybody, out of this room. Now.”

  Fuming at the Megaran’s disloyalty, we trudged single file into the reception area, which was now fully lit and filled with Andarts and their requisite stun guns. Great. Lights on. Hope extinguished.

  The door to the hallway opened and Benedict entered the suite, ambling towards Plionarctos with a warm smile.

  “Excellent,” he praised the Ursan. “We cannot let their small-mindedness derail us from our plans.”

  Plionarctos nodded as Benedict turned to the Andarts and instructed them to return us to our cells.

  “Traitor!” I couldn’t help my outburst. Pallas had not only betrayed us, but Zygfed as well!

  I had expected a laser burst from the pseudo-Ursan, and was ready to duck. Instead, Plionarctos held his stun-gun steady, and began softly, “You would join us if you could understand. It is a better place and a better way. Freedom and wisdom, they are worth the risk of anguish.”

  I stood bewildered. Strange talk from Plionarctos—or Pallas, for that matter. Apparently, Spud felt the same way. He looked in the Ursan’s eyes very intently for a few moments, and then turned away, his own eyes filling with tears.

  Matshi and I looked at each other, confused, as Benedict said to Spud, “Yes.”

  “You may as well unmute,” Benedict added. “He knows.”

  Before our eyes, Plionarctos activated his Ergal and began to unmute. His Ursan features slowly dissolved and his massive trunk began to morph into … oh, my God! Into something amorphous. Or, more accurately, someone amorphous. Nephil Stratum.

  Chapter 21

  Anakalipsis

  I gasped, unable to speak. Nephil Stratum! With Benedict!

  Matshi was shaking from anger, and Spud—well, Spud didn’t look at anything but his boots.

  “What did you do with Pallas?!” Matshi exploded at Nephil Stratum. The Andart guards held his arms to keep him from attacking.

  Still aiming her gun at us, she answered with a gentle voice. “Stunned in the Nautilus’ lavatory. I took care to see he was not hurt.”

  Matshi almost spat, his rage unabated. “Thank you for that.”

  “Why are we going to Zyga?” The question came from Spud, whose eyes were still glued to his feet.

  Nephil Stratum looked at Benedict, waiting.

  I snorted. “He still needs the Somalderis. Maybe His Highness has it.”

  Spud shook his head. His tone was bitter. “He has the Somalderis. We’re still alive because he needs something else.”

  Benedict sighed. “Ah, Escott, how sad that I cannot recruit you for my organization.” He turned to us. “Yes, now that Nephil Stratum has joined us, we are almost ready.”

  “What?!” Matshi did spit this time. “She’s the Somalderis?!”

  “A Somalderis.” Benedict explained. “There is more than one in the Universe. For example,” he added, gazing directly at me, “your brother had one, too. The one originally from Kolhis. I gave it to him to wear the night he crossed and he never sent it back.”

  It was my turn to lunge and be held back by the arms of my guards. To be betrayed by both friends and family was more than I could bear…

  A holo appeared before us, announcing that we were nearing Andromedan space.

  “Thank you, Henderson,” said Benedict. “And the Kharybdian ship?”

  “Tractored,” Henderson answered. “They’ll be on board within minutes.”

  “Well, then,” Benedict smiled, “we must be on hand to receive them.” Benedict nodded at the three of us, and said to the guards, “Pity they couldn’t wait quietly in my cottage. Take them back to their cells until we reach Zyga.”

  * * *

  I didn’t sleep in my cell this time. I lay on the cot, my eyes wide open, my heart broken. What had Benedict offered Nephil Stratum so that she would turn against her kingdom and her friends? And John? What could he possibly have offered John? My John … I so wish Spud were with me. He was so good at psyching out others, and why they did stupid, stupid things.

  “Psst.”

  I sat up and looked around. Except for me, the room was empty. Annoyed, I lay back down on the uncomfortable cot.

  “Psst.” There it was again.

  I sat up once more, my back to the wall, just in case. I felt so naked without a functioning Ergal or stun gun. I pulled my legs up towards my chest. I could shoot them out at an attacker if need be.

  “Down here.” The same voice, coming from under my cot?

  I swung my head under the frame, and broke into a broad grin. Standing with his arms open and all of three inches high was Setsei and his Geryon.

  “You micro’ed!” I whispered.

  “Shh!” He put a finger on his lips. “Give me your hand,” he whispered.

  “Here’s a finger, anyway,” I smiled as I extended my pinky towards his chest.

  As soon as we touched, Setsei micro-ed me to his dimensions. I gave him a hug and my effusive thanks. Holding my hand, he Ergaled me out of the cell and back into the enormous chamber with the three domes, which seemed even larger now that we were so much smaller. “Our prisoners have unfortunately been freed,” he explained. Stopping to Ergal me a stun gun, he added, “And Benedict and his Andarts took Eikhus and Sarion at gunpoint.”

  “How did you escape?” I immediately set the stun gun to kill.

  “We micro-ed right before we landed and slipped right through the Andarts’ legs. They searched all over the ship apparently, but never thought to look down at their feet.” Setsei gave out a small giggle. “Suthsi’s gone to get Escott. Lykkos, Matshi; and Nissos, Pallas.”

  “We’ve got to stop him,” I said urgently.

  “We got your general alert. Eikhus has already contacted Zygint.”

  “No, stop Nissos. Plionarctos isn’t Pallas.”

  Setsei looked at me, surprised.

  “Have you seen Nephil Stratum recently?” I asked him.

  “Actually, not for a while,” he pondered. “She was turning a bit green … said she was going to her quarters to rest. Haven’t seen her, come to think of it, you know, since just before you all muted.”

  I nodded. “That’s because she stunned Pallas on the Nautilus and muted as Plionarctos in his place,” I whispered with visible anger in my voice. “We have to get to Nissos before Nephil Stratum sees him and sounds the alarm.”

  * * *

  We scanned the dome where we had originally discovered Benedict’s cottage, to no avail. Setsei’s Ergal did identify a Syneph in the dome across from ours, n
ot far from where we had tried to send out our cry for help. Nephil Stratum had probably stayed with Benedict and his leaders to plan. But, to plan for what?

  “Nephil Stratum must be in this structure,” I whispered, pointing ahead. “Probably helping out the Coordinator of Interrogation and Torture.”

  Setsei smiled wanly. As we neared the dome, he clutched his Geryon even tighter. Micro’ed, I was able to see gaps in the dome’s membranous walls. I waved for Setsei to follow and we diffused through the openings easily. Once inside, we Ergaled to the hallway near the Syneph’s identified locationxxviii and hid behind a plastic pink poinsettia that someone thought—wrongly—would make an attractive decorative statement.

  We watched as, at our eye-level, a few Andart legs covered by their uniform’s baggy cuffed pants walked by us and entered the room. Now there’s an idea. I gestured my plan to Setsei, and, on my cue, we leapt into the trouser cuffs of the next passing Andart and hitched a ride inside the room. Peeking over the cuffs, we observed that chairs had been set up for Benedict, Nephil Stratum, Burr, and most of the Andarts. A quick scan of the room showed us that Sarion, Pallas, and Nissos were sitting across from us, stunned and under guard by the real Plionarctos. Eikhus was imprisoned in a giant stoppered bottle on which someone had scribbled, “Houdini was here.” Fortunately for a few dozen paperweights, and a few dozen heads, Fahrquardt wasn’t.

  Hoping we wouldn’t be seen, we slipped out of the Andart’s pants and scurried under a row of chairs. Just as I caught my breath, I felt a hand on my shoulder and almost screamed. Spinning around, I smacked an equally miniaturized Spud in the shins. He almost screamed, frightening tiny Suthsi, who was hiding under a chair in the back row, with his agony-triggered grimace. Glaring, Spud pointed at Lykkos and Matshi who, also mini’d, had taken posts on the other side of the room. I could dimly see our friends peeking out from under the real Agriarctos’s furry legs.

  We all watched Nephil Stratum float over to Eikhus’s bottle and wrap her tendrils around it. “We don’t have much time,” she said quietly. “Unfortunately, the Kharybdian managed to alert Glieser border patrols, and they are likely to attack as soon as we reach Andromeda.” She floated back over to her seat at Benedict’s right, and warned. “This ship would be blasted to smithereens if it tried to cross into Andromedan airspace.”

  From his post under the Ursan, Matshi raised two fingers, then extended twenty-four fingers in our direction and started silently counting them down.

  “Well, that makes our course even clearer,” Benedict announced to the accompaniment of his colleagues’ nods. “Then we stay here at galaxy periphery in stealth mode, and dispatch an undercover to get the target.”

  12-11-10…

  Agriarctos raised a paw. “I’ll do it.”

  6-5-4…

  “I like to play to Andarts’ strengths,” Benedict laughed. “And, somehow, for you, Agriarctos, blending discreetly into the scenery is not one of them.” Nodding at Agriarctos, Benedict turned to the group. “But, you would make an excellent decoy and distraction—”

  Positioned squarely under our foes’ chairs, we’d started to mega. Though it would take another few seconds to fully reach our goal of growing twice our regular size, we’d gained the element of surprise by knocking everyone’s chairs over and throwing the startled occupants to the floor. Then, we’d each leapt to disable our closest targets.

  Benedict and Burr were easily grabbed and stunned by a giant Setsei, who, with his Geryon pointed like a bayonet, then turned his attention to the onslaught of Andarts, mowing them down like frozen bowling pins as they attacked. Suthsi launched his Geryon at Nephil Stratum, piercing her and turning her tufts into icicles. He then unstunned Sarion, who lunged onto the back of an Andart that had Spud gasping in a chokehold, and applied a Megaran mpoon.xxix The Andart immediately released Spud and spun around screaming, unable to throw Sarion off his aching back. Spud called on his brilliant boxing skills and got in a direct blow to the Andart’s face. One more Andart down for the count.

  Matshi threw his arms around the Ursans’ necks while Lykkos stunned them. The Ursans stood stiffly, two tall, white columns amidst the Andarts flying across the room and writhing on the floor. I, tall enough now to easily slip the cap off of Eikhus’s bottle, did so, and Eikhus washed over me with gratitude before he, too, joined the fray.

  It didn’t take long before we had the entire room stunned, unstun-gunned, and un-Ergaled. I was about to give a victory cheer for our team, when I froze. Nope, not a panic attack. Really froze. The entire room was filled with a bright blue light which turned us all into human—and alien—contorted statues. I felt like I was back in acting class doing the freeze exercise, where you stop moving and stand in ridiculous positions every time the teacher yells the cue.

  And then the door opened to reveal Fahrquardt, in full puffery, holding a stun gun. He slowly and deliberately unstunned Benedict, the Ursans, and all of the now-fallen Andarts. As Spud would say, all our efforts, alas, had been for naught. Surprisingly, Fahrquardt’s gun was not effective on Nephil Stratum, and he seemed to purposely avoid freeing Burr.

  In fact, Fahrquardt sneered at Burr as he walked by, then stopped and stood proudly in front of Benedict, saying simply, “You’re welcome.”

  A re-mobilized Benedict calmly took a paperweight from his pocket and whacked Fahrquardt on the head with it, knocking the Coordinator unconscious at his feet. Had I not been stunned, I wouldn’t have been able to keep from laughing.

  Benedict then sighed and, looking at his audience, began again, “As I was saying, now that we have our decoy and distraction--Agriarctos--we need our undercover.” To my alarm, his gaze settled on me.

  I would’ve shaken my head if I could. Oh, no. No. No way…

  Benedict walked over to me and took my stun gun out of my pocket, tickling me a bit in the process. I protested with a choked gurgle. “Yes, I think you would do quite well,” he said, smiling, “for, after all, who can get into Central faster than a bona-fide catascope?

  “But,” he continued smoothly, “you haven’t been entirely cooperative, you know.”

  My eyes flashed with anger. I’ll cooperate in your dreams!

  “So, since you’re an actor, we’ll provide you with a little motivation,” he smiled, chuckling at his own joke. Then his tone got serious. “You and Agriarctos there will take your whirlpool buddy’s ship to Zyga. You’ll go into Zygint Central and to the location I specify and retrieve the target, and then return it to me.”

  He moved to within an inch of my frozen face. Could I spit? No, darnit. “Failure,” he said, his voice dripping with malice, “is not an option. Not if you ever want to see your companions,” he nodded at Spud, “alive again.”

  Chapter 22

  Anazitisi

  The Ursans levved me behind the footfalls of Benedict as he walked out of the room and down a hall to another office. I blanched when I saw the title on the door reading “Executive Coordinator of Interrogation and Torture.”

  I was dreading entering the room—and relieved when I saw it was empty except for a few utilitarian desks and chairs. “Ransome’s on sabbatical,” Benedict said casually, “Went to give his old buddies at Orion Revenue a hand.”

  “Tax Collectors,” the genuine Plionarctos growled as he took his post by the door, and then, after a nod from Benedict, unstunned me. “Now you can speak.”

  I snorted. “Benjamin Franklin said it best.”

  “Ah, yes, the well known cliché,” Benedict rolled his eyes and sighed, “‘Nothing is certain but death and taxes …’”

  “No,” I returned, “‘There never was a good war or a bad peace’.”

  Benedict actually chuckled for a moment before a note of sadness crossed his face. “I did not start this war …,” he said to someone who wasn’t there. Finally, he brightened again, and said firmly, “But I do intend to finish it.”

  “With my help,” I said bitterly. “So, either I kidnap His Highness, or you
kill my friends, is that how it goes?”

  “No,” he responded, to my surprise. “Despite how your pedagogues have brainwashed you, I truthfully have no desire to waste my time with—” the words seemed to be almost distasteful “—His Highness.”

  “No. I want something else.” He sat forward and looked at us intently. “On Zyga, there is a room you can access through Zygint Central the size of … of a small planet. In it is the target I seek.”

  Agriarctos looked alarmed. “Not the Ram?”

  Benedict nodded. “Exactly.”

  I looked from one to the other. Again with a ram? “But you have a Somalderis,” I protested. With Nephil Stratum on his side to channel unlimited energy from any bright sun power a trip to another brane, why would Benedict still need or want the Golden Fleece?

  “RAM,” Benedict repeated. “Registered Anastasial Memory. It’s the chamber where the neurocache of every single creature in the Universe, alive or dead, is stored.”

  “Whoa!” I staggered. “What, you’re trying to tell me that the Omega Archon keeps a head file on all of us?”

  “Simply put, yes.” Benedict pulled out my Ergal from his suit pocket and fiddled with it for a few minutes. “When you access the RAM, your Ergal will take you to the appropriate storage area and upload the information I’ve just instructed it to. Then you will return the information to me here.” He handed my Ergal to Agriarctos, who slipped it inside his robes.

  I snorted again. “Great. Sounds easy enough,” my voice was dripping with sarcasm. “And then you’ll kill my friends, and me?”