The Adventures of Connor Jakes: Masks (The War for Terra Book 1)

by James Prosser

  10

  “Jon Sandoval? No comment.”

  Jack Cole

  Answer to unspecified question during government press conference

  “Do you have any idea how much damage you caused to my building, Jon?”

  Connor’s eyes peeked open slowly as consciousness returned. He felt the vibration of the floor and deduced he was lying flat on his face in a ship traveling fairly fast. The anti-gravs were whining, making his teeth rattle in his head. He let out an involuntary groan as he tried to get up. It took him a few moments to realize his hands were chained to the floor with very little slack. Connor tried to raise his head, but a raw feeling along the back of his neck convinced him otherwise. He pressed his head back to the floor, turning to see the sandaled feet of Albert Holcombe.

  “It took almost an hour to have that glass replaced,” Holcombe said absently. “Of course the floor needed to be replaced, but I had already decided on new marble. And the secretary … what a mess. Yes, we had the whole operation back to normal in less time than it took for me to shower and change into clean clothes.”

  “Will you please shut up,” Jakes shouted hoarsely. “You talk too much.”

  “And you, my dear Agent Sandoval, are a traitor to your own kind.”

  “The name,” said the man on the floor, regaining some strength. “Is Connor Jakes.”

  “Connor Jakes is dead!” Holcombe replied, anger creeping into his voice. “You should know this, Jon. You were there when he died.”

  Connor declined to respond. He had been with the real Connor Jakes when the pirate’s life ended. He had pulled the trigger. It had been a matter of survival, both mental and physical, to assume the identity of the murderous marauder six years before. The charade had saved his life when the Ch’Tauk occupied Harpy Penal station. When the prisoners had been rescued by the crew of a cruise ship, desperate to save Melaina’s comrades from the invaders, he had continued to hold the identity of the man who had slaughtered his own family.

  “No witty retort? I expected something more. Still, you did put up a good fight. It was all very entertaining.”

  “Why?” Jakes replied, struggling to raise his head again as the vibrations below him slowed.

  “I read up on you, Jon,” Holcombe replied, gathering his robes around him as the vehicle slowed to a stop. “Once I heard you say that vile name I knew it could not be him.”

  “I asked you a question, Albert.”

  “I am under no obligation to answer anything from you,” Holcombe said. “You, my good man, are dead. I don’t need to answer questions from the dead. I have enough problems with the living.”

  “I’m going to kill you, Albert.”

  “Not today, Jon,” the fat man replied, standing up and motioning to an unseen lackey. “Pick him up and take him. I have something I want to show him.”

  Connor felt hands at his wrists and ankles, tugging at the chains, pulling him up to his feet. He could not hold himself up, so the hands, belonging to thickly-muscled alien guards, held him under their shoulders and dragged him from the skimmer. He was brought out to a brightly lit plain. Tall trees in the distance were blowing lightly in the wind. The sun seemed to be rising above the greenest field Connor had ever seen.

  “I wanted you to see this,” Holcombe said. “I wanted this sight to remind you of what you have lost. It is the last time I will ever show you any kindness.”

  The ground seemed to fall out from under Jakes’ feet. He watched Holcombe’s silhouette as darkness rose around him. The man was smiling at him in an absurd impression of happiness. It took his mind a few seconds to realize they were standing on a platform being lowered into a steep shaft. Minutes elapsed, and Jakes could only hang in the arms of his captors, watching the walls of the shaft move upwards. There was a sudden jar and the ground stopped moving. The dark wall ahead spread apart and bright artificial light stabbed into Connor’s eyes. He tried to bring his arm around to shield himself from the light, but the guards refused to budge. They dragged him out onto a metal walkway.

  The grate beneath Connor’s feet exploded with noise as the guard’s boots and Holcombe’s sandals stepped further into the light. Connor blinked rapidly, trying to stop the pain and adjust his eyes. The grate ended as they walked through a thick door and entered an enclosed room. Jakes was dragged to the window to peer out into a vast construction site.

  “This isn’t what I wanted to show you, but I thought you might be interested anyway,” Holcombe said, indicating the view from the room. “You and your friends would have cost us trillions of credits if the Ch’Tauk had minds for business. You know, those creatures signed a contract with us without even reading the fine print.”

  Connor’s head was grabbed by one of the guards and lifted. As his eyes focused on the majestic view, his wonder turned to horror. Below him were ships, bulbous and massive with rounded sterns and banded armor. The nose of each vessel was hollow and appeared to be in the process of being dismantled. He could just make out the projections along the side of one of the massive ships. Thick armor covered the vessels, although some of the ships seemed half-assembled. When the war ended, Connor had believed he would never see a Ch’Tauk dreadnought again in his life. He had certainly never imagined he would be seeing them inside a planet being built by a human run company.

  “You murderous bastard,” Jakes spat, trying to twist his head to see Holcombe. “You say I betrayed my own kind. Veles was building ships for the Ch’Tauk!”

  “Officially it was a subsidiary of Veles,” Holcombe replied. “We like to insulate ourselves from any liability in wars, you see. In any case, it was just business.”

  “Billions of humans died during the invasion,” Jakes said, trying to regain his feet despite the thick arms of his captors. “The remainder of humanity hunted and ground up as cattle feed, or made to be slaves to any alien race who could afford them. Why?”

  “Honestly, Jon. I am surprised at you,” Holcombe said, stepping closer to look directly in Connor’s eyes. “I looked over your family records. You were one of us. Your family’s net worth made you a billionaire, and you give a damn about the rabble below? You are a traitor to your own kind.”

  Connor thought about what Holcombe had said. He looked back to the vast assembly yard below. Figures were moving across the ships, carrying parts or pushing loaders. Recognition dawned on him.

  “It’s you,” Jakes said, turning to look back at the fat man. “They said there were human slaves on this planet, but I never thought … you enslaved your own people!”

  “They are not like us, Jon! They are common,” Holcombe said, his thick neck vibrating with the intensity of his words. “They weren’t smart enough to hide like you did, or wealthy enough to get out of the line of fire. They aren’t our people.”

  The realization of Holcombe’s meaning washed over Connor like a tidal wave. His knees felt weak again, but not from his injuries. He stared down at the floor below. Thousands of humans were working on the Ch’Tauk ships. Jakes realized that he may have fought against those ships in the war. The ships below, or ones just like them, had destroyed almost the entire human race and they had been built by the very people they subjugated. It was too much to take.

  Jakes planted his feet and pushed away. One guard was staggered by the force but the other guard held fast. Connor tried to kick out at the one he’d shaken loose, but was brought down again by his arm being twisted. He let out a scream of pain as the guard came back and kicked him in the ribs. Connor doubled over and coughed, expecting to see blood.

  “Still trying to fight, Agent Sandoval?” Holcombe’s voice was like butter in the small room. “It’s really no use.”

  “Why, Albert?” Jakes said, hacking the words through clenched teeth. “Why are you showing me this? Why me? It’s obvious you hate me. Why haven’t you killed me?”

  It’s not you I hate, Jon. It’s Jakes,” Holcombe replied. “You have been flying all over the galaxy, saving lives and helpi
ng the good guys all in his name.”

  “So what?”

  “You still think it’s okay to be a pirate?” Holcombe laughed. “Even after that man killed your family? Tell me, when you had him, when you held his life in your hands, Mister Sandoval, did you bother to look at how he was caught?”

  “He got stupid and made a mistake,” Jakes replied. “I really didn’t care as long as I had him.”

  “That’s right … you didn’t care. He did make a mistake, Jon. He tried to hijack one of my ships.”

  “He hijacked a lot of ships,” Jakes replied, spitting at the fat man. “That’s why they called him a pirate.”

  “That’s right, he did,” Holcombe replied, wiping the spit from the front of his robes with distaste. “This one was just like ten others he had tried to take, except this one had my son as a pilot! My real son, not that bastard alien. My son held out against that pirate murderer. Even as the man stabbed him in the throat, my son fired the bolt that stopped him. My son gave his life to stop Connor Jakes from killing any more people and you are trying to redeem his name!”

  Holcombe brought his hand up and slapped Connor hard across the face. Connor spat blood from his cut lip as Holcombe stepped back, seemingly shocked by his own violent outburst. The man walked to the window and looked down, lording over the slaves he owned.

  “Feels good,” Jakes whispered to the fat man. “Doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Holcombe said. “I suppose it does. In any case, I can’t have people looking up at Connor Jakes and thinking the man was a hero. That just won’t do.”

  “Why were you at Terpsichore?”

  The question seemed to hang in the air as Holcombe stared at the shipyard below. He cocked his head and he looked back at Jakes. There was a slight smile to his face that made his earlier expressions seem more dangerous. He nodded at Connor, stepping closer.

  “I’m glad you asked,” he said, tapping Connor on the nose. “I almost forgot. I was going to show you something.”

  “This isn’t it?” Jakes asked, “What, have you got a torture chamber down below? Do you kill puppies or something?”

  “Ah, well, that’s the wit I have come to love,” Holcombe said, turning and stepping away. “No, I have something far more entertaining for you. I really think you’ll appreciate this. It’s a special commission. You nearly upset my testing phase, you know.”

  Jakes was pushed along by the guards who still held tight to his arms. He stumbled, hoping to break away, but the creatures did not release him. Instead, they dragged him along behind their master as he explained how the Ch’Tauk had signed away their refund, thus allowing the company to keep the materials and designs, as well as the profits from the war. They finally came to a door with two more guards. Holcombe pulled a magnetic key on a long chain from inside his robes. He held the key up and waved it in front of Connor. The man seemed to be humming in amusement. He stopped waving the key and slid it past the door panel. The guards moved away and the doors slid aside.

  “You’ll really get a kick out of this, Jon,” Holcombe said, waving the guards to enter. “Just wait.”

  When the guards had stepped fully into the room, they released Jakes. He fell to the floor hard and stayed there. After a few seconds, he pushed himself up and looked around. The room was dark and sounded huge. There was a soft whirring of machines working in the dark. Connor looked around, trying to see in the inky blackness.

  “Just watch this,” Holcombe’s voice said from behind Connor.

  The door slid shut behind him, dropping darkness. Connor staggered to his feet, standing on unsteady legs. The air was cool and damp but unmoving. From the darkness he heard a sound, the rustling of fabric against skin. There was also the faint echo of motors spinning in a muffled rotation. Connor stepped back, trying to find the door. In a blinding flash, the lights bloomed on. The sight before him scared Connor Jakes more than anything he had ever seen. He looked up into his nightmare, as the beast took a deep breath and howled.

  Entr’acte

  It was late. She had curled up on the bed she had shared for so long with the man she loved and thought she knew. Her rage had been spent in the storm as they landed and crossed to their ship. She had laid blame on the others for the tragedy, but she knew better. The fault for Connor’s loss was hers.

  She had been blinded by the child and her innocent hope in a future now denied to her. She had convinced Connor to take Holcombe in and to take care of Bric. She had held him back when he wanted to abandon the refugees and move on. She had been the one to decide on using Holcombe and his knowledge of how Veles worked. The last time she saw Connor he was being struck from behind by the electric fire of the guards. It had been her fault. She was lost in her own misery and, despite her resolve to return to Aleinhelm and save her lover, she despaired of ever seeing him again.

  So lost in her own thoughts was she that when the comm unit on the desk began to emit a soft beeping, she did not hear it. When realization finally came, she wanted to ignore it and hide away from the galaxy. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to take something, anything, and throw it at the comm to make it stop. Eventually, she crawled from the bed and padded to the desk.

  The incoming signal was not from within the ship. Bonnie had tried to console her and told her she would not be bothered until she wanted to be. Her friends, such as they were, would not intrude on her now. The signal icon showed a small red sun, stylized and three-dimensional, rotating on a blank screen. It was not a symbol she recognized from any of the usual channels. She hesitated, not sure of what the message would be. It scared her to think it might be some kind of post-mortem message from Connor. She held her hand over the console for a long minute, listening to the beeping as she gathered what courage she had left and pressed the button.

  The face that appeared on the screen was unknown to her. The man was about Connor’s age, with a deep scar across his face. Strong features and a crisp, military haircut made him look official. She instantly distrusted the man.

  “Doctor Petros?” the man said. “My name is Jack Cole. I wanted to speak with you as soon as I heard.”

  “Who are you?”Melaina asked.

  “Officially, I am the director of special intelligence for the new Alliance,” Cole said. “Unofficially, I was a friend of the man you knew as Connor Jakes.”

  “What do you mean? Connor was in prison for three years before I met him. How do you know him?”

  “The man I knew was an agent of Terran Intelligence back before the fall,” Cole continued. “He and I graduated from the academy together. I recruited him after the war ended. He’s been working for me ever since.”

  “Wait,” Melaina said, shaking her head in confusion. “Connor doesn’t work for the Alliance. He helped Chang out during the war, but he wouldn’t have … you said Connor was working for you? Are you the one who sent him back to Terpsichore?”

  “In a way,” Cole replied. “My friend hated loose ends and that station was a big one for him. His report raised a few eyebrows back here.”

  “Connor … reported to you?”

  “He submitted an after-action report before leaving for Aleinhelm, yes.”

  “So you knew we were going to…”

  “I ordered him to go,” Cole said succinctly. “What happened there was unfortunate but not totally unexpected.”

  Melaina stared at the face of the man on the screen. He had no expression. The pain and loss Melaina had been feeling began to well up inside her. She flexed her hands into fists and brought her face closer to the screen. Jack Cole cocked his head slightly and looked back without comment. Her first impulse was to tear the screen from the table and hurl it across the room. Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to focus all her anger on Jack Cole.

  “Mister Cole,” she began. “I have just lost the finest man I have ever known. Despite all his past faults, he was brave and loyal and would tear down heaven and Earth to keep his friends safe. You said you were his friend. W
hy would you send him to that planet when you knew what waited for him?”

  “Brave … loyal … a fighter, that was definitely the man I knew,” Cole said, unfazed by the accusations. “The thing is, I’m beginning to wonder how well you knew him. I didn’t order him to Aleinhelm, Doctor Petros. He volunteered.”

  “No!” Melaina screamed, slamming her fist into the desk. “Connor wouldn’t have gone there if you hadn’t told him to! I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t have thrown his life away for nothing. He wouldn’t have done that to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Melaina,” Cole went on. “I really am. I can try to send help, but it might be a while. The Alliance is still pretty fresh and there are still threats we haven’t taken care of yet.”

  “I don’t want your help, Mister Cole,” Melaina said through clenched teeth. “I just want Albert Holcombe’s head on a platter.”

  “I think we can do that, but it will take planning and a degree of help from you.”

  “Me?” Melaina asked, put off by the change of direction. “What can I do? I can’t fight. I can’t fly. If I were any help to Connor, I failed when he needed me most.”

  “Actually, Doctor Petros, there is one thing you can do better than anyone on that ship or even back here. You’re a quantum engineer, aren’t you?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “I want you to build something, Melaina. Something very special that will get my friend out of the hell he’s in.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute,” Cole said, smiling for the first time. “First, I think I need to tell you a story about an old friend of mine.”

  “A story?” Melaina asked. “A story about who?”

  “I want to tell you about my friend, Jon Sandoval…”

  Book 3

  Live Till I Die

  1

  “Mankind is beset by suffering. We are all slaves to our passions or to our fantasies. Perhaps the luckiest of all is the slave who knows that suffering is the proper way of things.”