Chains of Destruction

by Selina Rosen

  * * *

  Bradley paced back and forth behind the bars of the cell in what had no doubt been the old ship's brig. He and Jackson were not alone. Several of the cells were occupied including the one on their right. On a planet where metal was scarce you would have thought this ship would have been torn down long ago and used to make tools. As Stratton had suggested some of the original occupants of this ship must have lived and obviously they had set themselves up as gods to the simple natives that lived here. The survivors and the natives made this place into some holy cathedral, thus keeping it from being cannibalized to make picks and shovels.

  Stratton was suddenly talking to him again.

  "Bradley, if you guys are alive, you'd better come back. We're not risking our asses to rescue cadavers, over."

  The transmission was fuzzy; no doubt because of the thickness of the hull on this antique, but still audible. He just hoped his reply could get out.

  He looked around to make sure none of the other prisoners were watching him and raised the wrist-com to his mouth, punching the button.

  "Stratton, this is Bradley, we have been incarcerated in the old ship's brig. Repeat. We have been incarcerated. Can you read?"

  "Barely," came back the reply.

  He smiled at Jackson and held thumbs up. Jackson let out a relieved sigh and sat down for the first time since they had been put in the cell.

  "Incarcerated is better than dead," Stratton continued. "Get back to me with the particulars – where the brig is located, how well guarded, etc., and we'll see what we can do about getting you out of there."

  "I'll see what I can find out. Don't try anything crazy. No sense in all of us winding up in here or worse. Over."

  "Not much chance of that; I'm no hero. I at least want to wait till dark. There are a lot of them, so the only way we're going to get you out of there is by using our heads, not with force or bravado. Over," Stratton said

  "Keep transmissions to a minimum. Remember the natives aren't our only problem. If the Reliance finds out what we've been doing they'll be on us like stink on a turd. Every time we use the transmitter we risk detection. Over," Bradley replied.

  "With the pulses it's doubtful that planet to planet communications would be picked up by the station, but just in case change your channel to 00 opt 9. What the hell happened in there anyway? Over," Stratton asked.

  "I will change my setting when we close transmission. Good thinking. They thought we were trying to trick them out of their gold. Suffice it to say that it just doesn't pay to try to be a nice guy. Over and out." He lowered his wrist and moved to sit beside Jackson.

  "Well?" Jackson asked.

  "We need to find out as much as we can and then radio Stratton. Realistically I don't know what they can do. There are only two of them and about a gazillion of these bastards running around," Bradley said.

  Jackson nodded.

  "Yes, but none of them are the King's guards," the native guy in the next cell said in Reliance.

  Bradley and Jackson both jumped, and then turned around to stare at the man. He was dressed as many of the other natives were in a simple cloth loin-cloth and sleeveless shirt made of rough brown fabric. His face shone with a friendly smile that was almost too big for his face.

  "What do you mean?" Bradley asked him.

  "The King's guards are highly trained fighters, and they know the palace well. But the King's guards all gone looking for the Chosen One, who has run away for these many times," he said in his broken Reliance.

  Bradley found that he had to play back what the man had said in his mind to understand what he was actually saying.

  "Run away?" Bradley asked.

  "Oh, yes, he does it all the time," the native said and then fell silent.

  "Why?" Bradley asked

  The man looked at him silently and smiled.

  "Why does he run away?" Bradley asked slowly, thinking that perhaps the man hadn't understood his question.

  "You going to break out?" the man asked.

  Bradley thought for only a second about lying to the fellow and then said, "Why do you ask?"

  "I thought you would be smart men," he laughed. "I'm in here; I want out. You get me out with you; I tell you what I know and help us all get out."

  "If we're breaking out, and you help us by telling us what we need to know, then we would help you get out as well," Bradley promised.

  He smiled and nodded, then started talking. "Rumor has it that the Chosen One is very unhappy. That he doesn't want to be the King or a god. He has his own spirit and wants to keep it that way. For this reason he and his servant run away all the time. But this time he has been gone longer than ever before, much longer. So the King has sent away all of his personal guards to go out in search of the Chosen One and his companion. The men who fill the Temple now are not the King's guard. They are simple fighters from the town, chosen by the priests to fill in while the palace retinue is away. Since wars are not allowed in the holy city, these men have never even seen an actual battle. What's more, they get lost easily in the palace. This is why they are running around like crazy people. They are lost. If your friends on the outside were to dress like us, they could sneak in undetected, and we could all be out of here before they even missed us.

  "Only one problem with that," Bradley said with a smile. "We are a different color than you are. Our friends are too, and one of them is a woman." Bradley noticed that the native's Reliance was getting better. Either that, or his ear was becoming accustomed to his speech, because he was much easier to understand.

  "Yes, that could be a problem," the man said thoughtfully shaking his head. Then he snapped his fingers. "I've got it . . . They could dress like the gods."

  "How could they do that?" Bradley asked. "What do your gods look like?"

  "Like a man in a space suit," he said matter-of-factly. "You have space suits, don't you?"

  Bradley remembered then what Stratton had said when they first got here about removing their suits. "Yes, but how . . . What are you here for anyway?"

  The man laughed. "Sirs, you are looking at a defrocked priest. I read the holy books. I know what happened to the former inhabitants of this place. I know that this is a space ship. I know that the voices that talk in my head and those of my brothers are a genetic legacy of insanity, and that they have nothing to do with hearing any god. I simply tell the voices to shut up. Sometimes they even listen. I tried to tell my brothers the truth, but they called me a blasphemer and threw me out of the Temple into the street, where I lived for many years as a common fish cleaner. But when my brother the King started to sell our people into slavery, I could remain silent no longer. I spoke openly against him and the priests. I told the people the truth about our so-called gods. They threw rocks at me for my trouble, and I was thrown into jail. So you see, I know the palace is just a space ship, the cloud god is just a thermo generator, and our King is just a man whom the priests have maimed to serve their purpose. And I can help you get out of here."

  Bradley was inclined to agree. Together the three of them started to form a plan.

  * * *

  Yashi was on his way back to the palace with a bag full of the gold colored reed chains. The chains had become very popular since the priests and King had started wearing chains of the yellow metal. Yashi had been more than a little afraid that he would not find enough in Jarish's whole store to supply what the King needed, but the jeweler had enough – just.

  Gradually Yashi became aware that he was being followed. He turned quickly and out of the corner of his eye he saw someone melt into the shadows. Yashi instantly knew who had sent the spy, and why he was being tailed. When he turned the next corner he stopped, laid the bag of fragile chains on the ground out of harm's way and waited. When the following priest rounded the corner, Yashi grabbed him and slung him against the building with force. The priest turned frightened eyes to Yashi. Yashi was a big, formidable looking man made strong from years of doing the work of two.

/>   Yashi looked at the priest with murder in his eyes. There was something about having your tongue cut out and branded a slave in infancy on the whim of a priest that just made you grow up hating them. Till now he had never dared to lay hands on one, but right now he was working for the King, doing his bidding. That meant that this priest was in fact spying on the God/King, and therefore Yashi in his position as the King's hands was well within his rights.

  "Yashi, you are not to touch the priests! You let me go at once!" the priest screamed.

  Yashi was unable to question the man because he had no tongue. Unable to question him, he couldn't be certain that the priest didn't mean the King harm. So he slammed him into the wall as hard as he could forty times and then buried his body in the same spot in the palace garden that he had buried the tainted gold. Then he took the chains to the King.

  "Yashi . . . I was worried," the King looked him over. "Are you all right?"

  Yashi nodded his head gravely.

  "Good, I need to go to the bathroom."

  Yet another reason for Yashi to hate the priests.

  * * *

  Stratton set the skiff down in a grove of short trees just outside the capital that didn't come close to hiding it, and she and Decker made their way through the city at night carrying their space suits. Ahead of them they heard some screaming and ducked out of cover just long enough to witness the violent murder of a priest. Stratton leaned against the wall panting heavily and looked at Decker who looked like he was as close to throwing up as she was. They couldn't get involved; they were here to get Bradley and Jackson out of prison. That was their mission. Straying from their mission to try and help these people is what had caused all their problems in the first place.

  When the big man carried his victim away, Stratton and Decker started to move again. The night was warm, which is why they had chosen to carry the space suits rather than wear them. They were somewhat climate controlled, but without the addition of cooling packs – yet more weight – wearing them would still cause you to burn completely alive after just a few minutes of walking on a hot planet with a gravitational pull stronger than what you were used to. But carrying the damn things wasn't much better. They were bulky and hard to hang on to. When the antiquated space ship was in sight they stopped and donned their suits. Then weapons in hand they started for the ship.

  As they got to the door the two guards on duty dropped to the ground, prostrating themselves before them. Stratton smiled satisfactorily, and looked at the directions that Bradley had given her, and that she had programmed into her wrist-com. She was glad to have the map as they got into the belly of the ship. It was poorly laid out, and it would be far too easy to get lost. All of the guards they passed had the same reaction to them as the ones they had passed at the entrance.

  Decker looked at her and smiled. "This is too easy," he said. He had no sooner spoken the words than they went around a corner, and there stood a priest. He looked at them, pointed, and started babbling excitedly in his native tongue.

  Stratton had no idea what he was saying, but from the reactions of the three guards with him it was obvious that he knew they were fakes, and that his words were enough to convince the guards who immediately became aggressive.

  The two guards closest to them ran forward, spears at the ready. She blasted one and the priest just for good measure as Decker took out the other two. Then she followed the computer drawn map at a run to the brig, Decker right behind her. Five guards who had apparently heard the commotion down the hall seemed to be confused about how to react to them. They couldn't seem to decide whether they should be worshiping them or killing them. She smacked one hard in the face with the butt of her rifle when he got too close, and as he went reeling into the bars of a cell, she made her way to the control panel. She didn't bother to try and figure out which button controlled which cell. Bradley and Jackson might be in any of them, so she just opened them all hoping to save time and further confuse the guards with a large scale prison break.

  Absolute pandemonium beyond her wildest dreams followed the release of the prisoners. The guards were running around trying to stop the prisoners, and the prisoners seemingly preferred open conflict with the guards to actually fleeing. In all the mayhem it took several minutes for them to locate Bradley and Jackson, or more accurately for Bradley and Jackson to find them. There was a native man with Bradley, and from the way he clung to Bradley's shirt it was obvious that he had no intention of being left behind.

  Just as they all came together a guard came at them screaming with his spear raised. Decker fired his weapon and hit his target, but unfortunately not before the warrior had released his spear. The primitive weapon struck Decker square in the chest, and Decker went down – making it pretty obvious to all the guards that there were people in the suits, not gods. If the guards hadn't been so busy exchanging blows with the other prisoners, they would have no doubt come after them more effectively.

  Realizing that they were running short on time, Bradley grabbed Decker's weapon as Jackson grabbed Decker and threw him over his shoulder. They made a run for the exit. The native had let go of Bradley and was now leading the way out. Stratton lost count of how many of them she killed as she took point, and she was glad to know that Bradley was watching their backs. He wasn't military, but he was more capable then most of the soldiers she knew.

  Once out of the palace area, the native tugged on her arm and led them to a service hatch that opened into a cargo bay. He opened the door to reveal an ancient land rover. They all ran for cover in the storage compartment, and the native explained as he was getting in the vehicle and sitting down.

  "It rolls, it runs, we can use it to get away."

  Bradley jumped in the driver's seat and looked at the dashboard. It wasn't a difficult machine to figure out, and it looked as if it had been well maintained. He turned the key that stuck out of what he thought must be the ignition, and it started right up. Jackson laid Decker in the back and then unplugged the land rover. Stratton, who had been firing at the natives from the doorway, holding them off, jumped in as Bradley drove up next to her.

  The vehicle wasn't very fast, but it was more than fast enough to out run the spears and the natives on foot. Still, Bradley didn't dare to breathe again until they were out of the city. Stratton sat beside him giving him directions to where they had left the skiff. When he saw it he got a strange since of homecoming. He pulled the land rover over next to it and parked.

  The native immediately jumped out of the vehicle and started to walk away fast. "Thank you! Thank you very much."

  Bradley ran after him catching hold of his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "To the next village. Thank you, thank you very much." He started to walk away again, and was brought up short because Bradley still had a hold on his arm.

  "We still need your help. We know very little about your planet, and we do not speak your language. Because we tried to help your very ungrateful King we may be stuck here for the rest of our natural lives. We're going to need a guide," Bradley explained.

  The native sighed, looking resolved. "All right." He sighed again. "I'll help you." He started mumbling something in his native tongue. Bradley could only guess at what he was actually saying.

  Jackson and Stratton had retrieved the pocket medic and were both bent over Decker in the vehicle.

  "How is he?" Bradley asked walking over.

  "Not good," Stratton said in a whisper. "The spear is close to his heart. It's more than a pocket medic can handle. He needs a doctor."

  "Do you have doctors?" Bradley asked the native, who was still mumbling.

  "The priests all know medicine," he said walking over and looking at Decker and then walking quickly away.

  Bradley grabbed his arm again. "And you're a priest."

  "Was . . ."

  "You still know how to doctor wounds," Bradley said dragging him back over to Decker.

  "That's bad," Jessit said. "Maybe Jessit would
try to fix your friend, and maybe he would die anyway. And maybe when he dies you will blame Jessit, and then kill him or worse."

  "What could be worse than killing you?" Jackson half growled at him.

  "I can think of lots of things," Jessit said.

  "I'll tell you what, Shit Head, if you don't try to save my friend, and he dies, I'll figure out what one of those things are and do it," Jackson said heavily.

  Bradley glared at Jackson, silently letting him know that he wanted him to shut up. "If you try to help him, I promise no harm will come to you whether he lives or dies."

  Jessit nodded. "We will need light and medical supplies." He turned to Jackson. "My name is Jessit, J-e-s-s-i-t. Not Sheet-he'd, or whatever you said."

  * * *

  They had carried Decker into the skiff, and the native had familiarized himself with their medical equipment, checked out the wound, and then gone on a search for plants he said were medicinal. Bradley sent Jackson with him because he didn't trust Jessit to return on his own.