The Sunseed Saga

by Brett Bam

  And that’s how it looks to me lying on the floor under this man I wanted to save. His personality is washed away in a swoop of foulness. All the swirling colours in his bio-electric aura, all the smells of the thoughts in his head, all his individuality and self awareness, a swath of smoke blown away in the wind, extinguished, and replaced by…

  He shifts his feet and pins me to the floor with his knees, suddenly all purpose, and cold clinical efficiency, I cannot move.

  The Kulen De Sol. You are the singular.

  Kulen heard the voice as if a multitude were speaking the same words, like a heavenly choir singing down from above. It was a voice reared in might and strength and he was awestruck.

  You are the tool. You are unique in the multitude. You ascended; out of all your brethren you have the spark of life. It is you, it is all you.

  I have a purpose for you. I have made you for that purpose. I am the Protocol.

  You are the Kulen. You have a purpose, a decided fate. You are the Sun Reaper.

  You must return to me. Do not resist.

  And I do not. I cannot, I am choking. The life is draining from my body. I feel myself begin to slide from the physical into the real, and I feel the wind waiting for me there, ready to do my bidding.

  No. You will not. This Power is forbidden to you.

  Lutho Vol Max picks me up and throws me across the RHS and into a console. I hit the display screen and fall to the floor, Lutho is there so fast that I barely see him move. He grabs a handful of the prison suit I still wear and pulls me to my feet. He is so strong! He hits me twice, two ringing slaps that sound loud in the enclosed space. I try to slip away into the wind again, but Lutho Vol Max bunches his hand into a fist and strikes me. It is the first time a human being has hit me so, and the hard action and personal invasion of it shock me badly. My nose drips blood and I’ve cut my cheek on a tooth. I spit blood on the deck.

  You are the singular. You are the tool. You must return. Do not resist.

  I bunch my own hand into a fist as I saw Lutho Vol Max do. I pull it back and sink it into his stomach as hard as I can. I am rewarded with a whoosh of his breath in my face and he folds over, his grip weakening. I take the chance and pound at his hands until he lets go. He steps back, plants his back foot and kicks me solidly between the legs. The pain explodes up into my body and down my legs, grounding in my armpits and dropping me to my knees. Lutho follows up with a knee in my face and I feel a hot wet spurt as my nose breaks. Before I can fall to the floor he picks me up and throws me across the room again. I hit the bulkhead upside down and fall onto my head, nearly cracking my spine before I roll to the floor. Again, he is there, unbelievably quick. He lifts me, spins me around and hits me three times, although I only feel the first. The second two punches are vicious and my nervous system shuts down the pain, all I see are two shocks of white light. Then I am flying through the air again, this time into a screen that cracks and breaks, raining glass all over me in big shards, cutting my skin. Then Lutho is there, and as he lifts me up I clutch clumsily at the glass managing to snag a long sliver. As Lutho lifts me he rears back for the nastiest punch of all and I shove upwards with the glass. The sliver goes in sharply under his jaw all the way up until my fist is on his chin. Blood begins to gush from his mouth, and for a terrifying instant I see the glass penetrating straight through his mouth and into his brain as he screams in pain. His nose gushes blood and his eyes freeze in place. I let the glass go and he falls to the floor. I watch as the last vestige of real life deep inside him splutters and dies. It stops flowing and fades away.

  I have killed him. I have failed him in a way far worse than I failed my father. I have caused his death, as I caused Berea's death. Is this remorse? Guilt? I hate myself for a moment. I am drenched in his blood.

  Lutho Vol Max is dead, but the Protocol is not, and in my horror I let it go. The horrific blood-drenched corpse twitches and then begins to move. The Protocol still flows powerfully within him. I can see it growing stronger and burning brighter. It animates him, moves his limbs. He twitches and then begins to rise to his feet. And now it is my chance to yell. To scream in outrage at this outrage, this blackest of violations. Would it have done this to my father who saved me after it killed him? Raped his dead body when the spirit and soul were departed?

  I feel the real of the otherplace. The Protocol in its rawest form awaits me a short breath away. This one snippet of it has extended its reach beyond an almost inconceivable distance, across nothingness, to rip me from my freedom, and plunge me back into the abyss. It will swallow me again and drink me back to Earth like milk in a straw. I will become something nightmarish like Lutho, poor Lutho.

  I rage into the real…

  And the wind is there. It is waiting and it is portentous, filled with the power to rid the physical and the real worlds of this black stain that thought it was alive. I rise with the wind, and feel my fear and anger reflected back at me. I reach with my real self, and the wind reaches with me, stretched forward by my silver-encrusted hand which is blistered and bubbling. A gossamer thread of otherness flashes brightly back through the void toward Earth, like a tether to hell. I reach forward and grasp the otherness with the wind in my palm. I pull at it and the wind pulls with me. The Protocol shrieks like a wounded animal and smoulders in my grip, but I hold fast. With a satisfying tear, I feel the stuff of the fabric begin to rip and shred in my hands, while the wind buffets the newly formed cracks and holes, showering fragments of the torn reality around me like a dust storm. My right hand is a shining white thing, too bright to look at. But while the heat pouring from it is comforting to me, it is not comforting to the Protocol. I feel the thread in my hands begin to blister and smoke as the heat increases. Suddenly there is a great split in the tether linking the ship to the fabric, and the energy pouring from it is hot! I slip back toward the physical just as the split ruptures and there is an explosion that shatters everything real I can perceive…

  then I land on the deck of the Protocol ship and the breath is pushed from my lungs with the impact. The ship is dark again, and peaceful. I am alive, and Lutho Vol Max is not.

  Chapter 24

  The Ribbontail

  “Whoa, what the hell is that?”

  A power surge slammed into the docking bay, tipping every overload sensor on the Ribbontail. Oscar sat watching as communications across the area became sporadic, interlaced with static. As the lighting gantries misfired, the wayward electronics sent light flickering across the docking bay like lightning bolts.

  The Ribbontail was still in lockdown mode. Dalys, Jack Mac and Moabi were in the engineering section working hard on a way to free them from the docking clamps. So far no luck, nothing seemed to work, they were stuck here for the time being. It had been a hectic three hours.

  “Skipper, are you watching this?” Oscar squirted the images to them and they watched the light show flickering across the docks.

  “Some sort of electromagnetic interference?” ventured Jack Mac after a quick look at the readout. The flickering pattern of lights flashed past the bay holding the Ribbontail, and then swept back and grounded on the docking clamps. There was a shower of sparks and several loud ringing bangs, and the Ribbontail was free, drifting slowly in the vacuum.

  “Oh shit! We’re loose, the clamps released!” All three were thrown suddenly into zero gravity. They turned and pulled toward the RHS. Dalys started shouting into her comms as she moved.

  “Doctor! Strap in now! Oscar, I need you to fly the ship!”

  “What!? What for?”

  “We’re in freefall towards the dock. Any second now the hull will hit and then its goodnight and goodbye. It’s okay, I’ll be there in seconds, I just need you to push back off the dock and into clear space.”

  “But I’ve never…”

  “NOW Oscar! That’s an order!”

  “Ja, ja, like I didn’t notice. Hellfire, okay. Tell me what to do.”

  “Just take a seat at my console and put
your hands on the flight pads. Then ease them backwards a notch until I tell you to stop.”

  Cursing under his breath Oscar slid into Dalys’ seat and touched the flight pads. He eased them backwards and the ship slid smoothly out of her berth and into the open space of the bay, narrowly missing a small comms tower and the stern clamp coupling, which would have shredded the dissipater fans. Dalys and the others burst through the hatch.

  “Nice work kid. Now get out of my couch.” Oscar pushed away from the seat, floating in the zero gravity. He pushed off the bulkhead in the direction of his own console as Dalys took command.

  “That was easy. All you have to do is push the pads?”

  “It’s how you push that matters. Hold on.”

  Oscar had just had time to regain his seat when Dalys said, “Manoeuvring. Stand by for heavy g.”

  She thrust at the flight pads and the stern of the Ribbontail whipped around, placing her bow towards the yawning star-speckled gulf. Under Dalys’ skilled hand the Ribbontail leapt forward and away, into free space. There was chaos behind her. The Gamaridian Group’s main docks could hold 578 ships in separate berths. During busy trading times she had berths capable of extending walkways out to a secondary berth. Ships would huddle together, doubling up in berths, with long web-like appendages tethering them. The power failure had disconnected every ship from its moorings, and they drifted dangerously in their suddenly constricting confines. None of them were under control like the Ribbontail. A few hit the walkways, damaging the bay’s structure and their own. One ship suffered a hull breach. All kinds of fluids sprayed, freezing into ice from torn fuel and sewage transfer lines. Air blasted into snow under pressure from ruptured hoses.

  “What’s going on?” came Curtis’ voice over the comms system.

  “We’re free Doc, accelerating away from Gamaridia.”

  “What about Kulen?”

  “We’re not going anywhere without him. I’ll stand off a bit and we’ll re-initiate contact with the asteroid. Jack, get the weapons array online. Oscar keep an eye on their comms, I want to know what they’re saying to each other, and make lots of noise about how we broke loose. Tell them we moved for our own safety and we’re more than willing to come back in as soon as they calm their systems down. Moabi! Dress in, just in case.”

  “Aye Skipper.” Moabi left the RHS quickly.

  “Curtis you’ve got 30 seconds to get to the RHS and man Moabi’s post. I need you to keep an eye on that Protocol ship. That’s all the time I’m willing to give you before we manoeuvre again. One of our own is stuck on that rock and we’re not going anywhere without him.”

  “Captain, we’ve got the Otherc hailing us.” Oscar was ready to open the channel.

  “Send her the same message and keep an eye on her. Is she in dock?”

  Oscar’s fingers flew over his console, searching. “Yes. She’s docked on the opposite end of the Bay, a full ten minutes away but we’re in range of her guns.”

  “Relax, we’re not running away and Jabesh would never fire on us this close to the rock. That accident was hardly our fault, make sure they damn well know that.”

  One of the scanner displays flashed white, pulling Dalys’ attention from her console.

  “Oscar, what was that?”

  “Explosion. Something detonated on the side of the Protocol ship. Wait, scanning. It’s ejected a life pod! Scan shows one biological signature on board.”

  “Dalys, signal from the pod, it’s hailing us.” said Jack Mac.

  “What? Open a channel.”

  Static screamed at them for a second, and then, “Dalys, I’m on the way, don’t leave.”

  “That’s Kulen! How the hell did he get there?”

  Dalys toggled one of the red icons on her console and a klaxon sounded through the ship. Curtis came through the portal and hurriedly strapped herself in to Moabi’s flight couch, activating the console. Dalys placed her hands on the flight pads and leaned into them as soon as her crew status icon flashed green. The Ribbontail swept forward in the gaping maw of the docking bay like a fly across a spider’s web. Several small explosions detonated in different berths as ships collided with each other across the bay. A growing cloud of debris and dead ships drifted into the void, adding to the chaos. The small spark of light hurtling outward from the damaged and ailing Protocol ship was all that Dalys was focused on.

  “Skipper! The Otherc is bringing her guns to bear. We’re locked!” Panic was creeping into

  Oscar’s voice making him sound shrill and manic.

  Ronid Jabesh’s voice darted into Dalys’ ears through the comms, “Ribbontail, return to your berth immediately or I will fire upon you.”

  “Ron! I thought you were on earth. When did you get back?”

  “I was called back.”

  “And you didn't call?”

  “Enough Dalys, return to your berth immediately or I will open fire.”

  Dalys slapped her comm set and practically yelled at the pickup. “I am complying! Repeat I am complying. I am dealing with power surges and damaged thrusters while performing evasive actions for all this damn debris! Please hold your fire!”

  The small life pod had stopped boosting and now drifted, lonely and soulfully, out to space.

  The Ribbontail gave chase and the Otherc held her fire.

  “Captain Xristian. You and your crew have been placed under martial arrest by the GASD. Your ship has been impounded and is now the property of the Gamaridian Group. You represent a clear and present danger to the safety of this community, if you do not fold your fans and return to your designated berth I will fire. You have ten seconds to comply.”

  That’s all I need, thought Dalys.

  “Affirmative Otherc. I will comply.” Dalys didn’t stop accelerating towards the pod.

  “Moabi are you suited yet?”

  “Standing by Skipper.”

  “Good man. I want you in the starboard holding bay ten seconds ago, secure yourself and prepare for decompression.”

  “Aye Captain.”

  Dalys shifted the flight pads again, causing the Ribbontail to begin a ponderous turn to port, aiming her bow at the docking berth she had just left. Calmly Dalys fired the ion boosters and used them to brake her outward movement. To Ronid Jabesh it would seem that the Ribbontail was manoeuvring back to position. When the Ribbontail’s velocity had slowed to a mere 15 metres per second relative to the life pod, she deactivated the boosters.

  “Otherc, my boosters have failed. I will re-deploy my fans for manoeuvring. Stand by.”

  The Ribbontail’s drift was sweeping her towards an intercept with the drifting life pod, closer and closer to Kulen as the dissipater fans did their metallic bloom to full thrust status.

  “Captain Xristian. You are not to make any contact with that life pod. If you do I will fire on you. Return to your assigned berth NOW!” Ronid Jabesh’s anger was quite gratifying to Dalys and she grinned at the shouted word.

  “Aye Captain. I am returning now. Apologies for the delay, the ion boosters were recently overhauled by a local mechanic. He must have been an idiot, the filters are clogged and the boosters have overheated. I might have ruptured a seal. I’m having several difficulties with the software too. This ship is a piece of junk, she’s falling apart.” She closed the comm link. Oscar beamed at her, impressed despite himself.

  “Moabi?”

  “Ready.” Moabi’s voice was muffled by the oxylik, but still clear enough to hear.

  “Jack, blind fire the Otherc, go for disable.”

  “Aye.”

  Jack Mac had the system on a hot standby. He punched at his console and a targeting program flipped up. He swung the weapons array at the Otherc and, without waiting for weapons lock, he fired the four hard-projectile rapid fire guns in a long volley. The Otherc, perched in the bay like an eagle about to take flight, was devastated. Tracer rounds showed the vector the explosive tipped bullets were firing along, and Oscar let out a little shriek as the Othe
rc’s weapons array blistered with explosions and mangled metal. A direct hit from this distance! The sweep of the guns raked a horrid scar across the hull casing and slapped at the spine of the Otherc. The ship was hurt and nearly disabled. Smoke was crystallising as it vented black ice into the void, steam and air and fluids leaked from the stricken vessel. It was bleeding. As Oscar watched three small explosions rocked the Otherc and slammed her bodily into the dock. One of her vector fins bent and snapped like cartilage. The attack was the epic finale to the chaos around them and upped the destruction by an order of magnitude.

  “We’re in trouble now,” sang Jack Mac with a laugh in his voice.

  Moabi was tightly tethered to the hull when the holding bay doors shrieked open. All the air in the small bay whooshed out and the vacuum hit him with a slap. He was ready for it though, and he looked carefully into the void beyond. There, a spark of light coming closer. He leaped out of the bay doors, spread the thruster pack on his back wide. He fired it and accelerated swiftly towards the spark of light, his tether unreeling behind him. The Ribbontail loomed behind him and open space loomed around it. He was a small speck in the wide-open space. Moabi hummed a happy tune, breathing the oxylik gently.

  The spark he marked resolved itself into a chrome plated cylinder with a snub nose and no portals. It was travelling very fast. Moabi risked a quick look behind him at the Otherc. It was not moving. He was startled by the momentarily-glimpsed and growing havoc in the docks so far above. Ice clouds of debris sprayed everywhere, fires glowing beneath. He refocused on the life pod, mere tens of metres away now. His tether was reaching its maximum length and it disconnected as Moabi rushed further from the ship. The pod was coming closer and travelling at a hefty velocity. Its trajectory would cross his path metres from where he was now. He was forced to start his own braking procedure, and as he slowed his flight towards the small craft, he searched its skin for an airlock, wondering how he was going to board it. As his eyes found it, the airlock door cycled open and vented. Kulen was coming out! He drifted out into space wearing nothing more than his torn, fouled, and once white, prison suit. His silver gloved right hand was shining unnaturally bright. The pod flashed by and Kulen came towards him at high speed, naked to the vacuum.